Rickon Chewe

Rookie - 327 Points (20 August 1994 / Chingola, Zambia)

Note To God - Poem by Rickon Chewe

So here I am, standing in his holy presence
just a few meters behind the ranked winged creatures.
I stare as they go before me to bow and marvel his glorious essence
each present to present a unique present.
My eyes widen with awe in their state of gaze as my spirit crusades
To grasp its position of existence,
Sensations of nirvana sensed by my soul, the globe of my eye
Stumbles upon scenes flooded with manner,
My spirit yet combats for balance.

Lots wife in a pillar of salt, am caught in a moment of still
Still silence brooms my mind, only dirt of what I know not clouds my mind,
For what verifies itself ahead my eyes is a big ask for my eyes to compromise. I begin to die a little inside at how soon my life met End, the big little things I never got to do but preciously
the words I’d never say to you, thoughts fell to the thought growing the feeling that am for the afterlife. In a flash before I could think in the minute of a brink
I felt what felt like hands grip ahold of me, beings floating the ground like elements, effortlessly carried me ahead of the rank.

The closer I got to his presence, the lesser I could breathe
Almost as if my heart forgot how to beat, failure to endure
My body dropped to knees, in sweat I began to bathe
My soul that drowned in the darkness of its sinful sea
Began to coil, it began to boil for the essence of his light
Penetrated its presence.
Awaiting permission to speak, I kept my face faced at knees.
Granted the chance my body arose as if that of the dead
Now given a purpose to life, I embraced to plead my case.

“Lord, This web of sin that has entangled my soul
Fastened my spirit in cobwebbed flaw
Disturbs our once connected, communicating flow
With inputs of sinful disgrace and output of holy grace
This web has become a bridge to our modern day brawl
But how much more, shall father and son play tag of war
Wasn’t Christ blood enough for us all?
Was it not the key to free us all?

I do, lord, I do, I do grasp the idea to find Christ is but simple geography
His arms fairly spread from east to the setting of the sun in the far west
If life ever dragged me south all am to do is look up north
But lord, this Pornography, stained, repeat on my sin biography
Peels the Christian skin of my spirit bones like leprosy,
Day after day I repent, days after then I repeat again
How many letters should you see? Stinking of my apology
Do I exist to live serving and begging for you mercy? But God..
I refuse to walk this life to have my own sins purge me.”

A sink hole emerging beneath me
Like drowning in quick sand
I was sucked from up, from what felt like up.
My heart kept steady pace of a beat
What felt left of his presence through feet it left in feeling
**everything went black after that**

Am a sinner but I don’t like to sin but am always sinning
But I refuse to call myself a child of God if every time I close my eyes
It’s to ask for forgiveness. Next time I meet God, am thanking him –RICKON


Topic(s) of this poem: confessional, religion

Form: Free Verse

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Poem Submitted: Monday, September 14, 2015

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