Torn By Storm

Sudden storm at the turn of noon;
tender twig snaps into flowing stream.
The vine watches it ripple to sea,
stares at love, yearns for sweeter hug.

Soon a blast echoes in the clouds,
rallies a long-awaited lift
beyond the blue to saner climes,
bright as seven suns. In a whiff,
all is whisked out of swirling scum.

At the concourse they meet, settling
from flight and nestle in the vine;
sound resonates–blending scented
incense with tuneful praise encore.

In him life’ s one, none ever lost;
even a pin dropped in wide deep
sea will yet rise at trumpet’s sound–
then will joy jeer at parting tears–
at last, the lost twig hugs the vine.

Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi

28 May, 2019

1 Day to Pentecost

Do It Again

Take me back over space and span
to how it was and should be.
Plant me in the air of the age
when virgin world was fun:
vegetation was green all in bloom,
sky screened with crystal clouds
rarefied to sparkling sheen.

Take me back over time and space
when Enoch took wing, leaving
the world roll away from source;
Noah worked at the Ark, a ship builder
amidst pout and scorning rabbles;
Lot squinted at heaped debris:
smoking remains of frenzy lust.

Take me back over space and span
when Spirit and Power came down;
friendly wind swept like storm,
ran flesh out of Heaven’s work;
when tongues settled on heads, ignited
the heart, kindled frosty bones.
Do it again, Lord. And suddenly, too.

Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
18 May 2019