The Stubborn Son - Poem by ADEWUMI JOSHUA

O Jehovah,
I have a penchant for thy will.
Even though pleasure surrounds me
and my body pushes me to sin,
my spirit never penancely love thee.

My past won't make me rest.
It keeps pulling me from thy presence.
Though, sometimes, my mind do pull along with it
Inside, I persistently plead for thine hand.

I have concealled my wrongings.
From the face of those who know you
I hid it.
To please the heart of my feeble flesh
I broke thine heart. O
Now I am internally interrogated
and my feigning is already breaking.
The pierce of thy sword I fear!
Though thy mercy is all over,
My despair shall deny me a taste!

I have forgotten
That everyman is an open book before thee.
Thou knows my begining, my formation,
And from my entrance into this world,
Thou have been keeping a record of me.
So where could I run, when I know
That before thee I will end?
Before me thou placed good and bad,
life and death respectively.
You taught me good;
yet, it is bad I do.

Now should I give excuses
Or what?
I am now a fugitive:
From thee and thy acquaintances
I flee.
Still, it is thy voice I can hear;
It keeps calling:
Come home, come home, come home...
How could this be?

Topic(s) of this poem: meditation

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, February 3, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, January 23, 2015

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