Psalm Of A Malison Poem by Babatunde Odubanwo

Say this prayer, now and again.
Say this prayer.
There is a home turned house and village that once existed; there is no more.
All that is left, potsherd of broken memories.
And there lies, in boulevard of pain, shards of promises unfulfilled.
There is a sound beyond music, a dirge impounding.
Life becomes a sordid tale, a long road leading nowhere,
Despite years of whitewashed shirts and worn-out shoes,
Lying beneath a stockpile of hate and unconfessed truths.
Go on your knees with these few words: The Lord is my shepherd!
Look out of the mirror and see; there is a faraway land
Waiting to see your face, home without borders,
Welcome in warm embrace and teardrops clung to face.
Remember in these times, say this prayer again.
Pray for the injured infant in a cot of innocence.
He bled for the sins never committed, crimson clog at feet.
Before he was on fours, knees hurt from parents' distance.
He walked in his dreams and ran a distance just for a kiss on forehead,
A day in painful years that will never ceased, even in decades.
And now, today battled for tomorrow's yesterday,
A circus of fettered winged bird, bound.
Will salvation ever find a wandering soul?
In reflection, there is a chime that reminds:
Say a prayer for the childhood that died before adolescence.
A revigoration awaits the Achilles heel at river Styx.
Pray for bleeding hearts to be mended by love unfound,
And there will be a second in years for a homecoming.
Go on your knees with these few words:
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.