“I breathe by the wound for the air is stale,
The heats sweat hasn’t been so sweet.
There is no room for anymore tears,
All ground is covered by past errs.
His mercy seems remote as I am teared by these vicious aches.
I toss and turn
positioning myself for another retreat.
I come forth to the temple
where silent affliction is heard.
I bow my head once more
and sought for the Hearts of hearts
For my hope was hopeless
And my faith faithless
without the color of peace
and the shape of insight.
As I die
I find the meaning of Love
Standing before my face
Painting my soul
with the brilliance of mercy.
Graced I stand again
and loved more deeper I sing much harder.”
– Mhlanga Sikhosana
Image – Unsplash / Over App
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