Of Sickness Poem by Adeosun Olamide

And when the lord desires me peace-
He causes the illness to fall upon him
-The sickness brings home, to my watch,
The sickness brings warmth, my coldness
He hardly sees, seeing no error or flaws
Nor perceiving I or other which spurs his disgust
Then, I hold him, beholding- the pulse,
Beholding his lips, dark, strong and cold-
At the low tones, that exhales from it
Beholding his palm shivering and then mine-
-The easement on his betrayed spirit
It would murmur amidst the memory-
Of good, neglect, of distractions that enchanted him
Distractions that drowned me to rove no more
-On his thoughts, upon his goodly sea
Of distractions that roared me into mist
And how like clouds that hover over breezes eyes
-He swept away, for the stars lain behind-
And here I know I must pray-
And bury whatever that may heed the recovery
And here I know I must pray he remains the way
In the shield of sickness-
-That imprisons his beastly natures
In the shield of sickness-
-That sustains me
In the shield of sickness-
-That reminds yet of a man I could love