Skip to main content

NOT MY BATTLE



A Psalm of Umaben

When the enemies come like a flood
They gathered roundabout me with their rod
Their hands were stretched forth to take my peace
They took an oath that the battle will never cease

When my case was presented before their gods
They sold a lie as they barked like dogs
They have constantly threatened to reduce me
And have decided what my fate will eventually be

When their lords forged their fierce swords in fire
To rip my heart apart was their sole desire
They have concluded that help is beyond my reach
And have my soul as their celebration dish

When I heard the sounds of their chariots
As they approached my gate like a mighty riot
They have loaded their gun-room with my weaknesses
And set their arrows with many false witnesses

When I saw their army marching all year long
And their projectiles I heard like a mystic war song
They pledged to bury my name in the valley of history
As they prepared to tell the end of my sad story


Then I faced my life against the words of old
Closed my eyes so tight so that I won’t go cold
Fear gripped me that I lost the voice in my words
My strength failed me from the years of many wars

Then my face was darkened by the shadow of their darkness
Buried my head in shame at the exposure of my nakedness
I realized the gradually my joy was been stolen
I scanned around to see if the edge has been broken

Then His words pierced through my heart like a sword
The battle is not yours but mine says the mighty Lord
Hold your peace and see my deliverance and Salvation
I will make you a sign and a wonder to the nations

Ota Uma Umaben
9th February 2019


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

HOW THEY ALMOST WASTED MY LIFE IN LAGOS

This thing called life. On this edition of Everyday People I am talking about the story of a young life that would have been carelessly truncated. But God saved his Unique Life. Yes! This Life is Unique! It is Unique because of you. There is no other you. No where in this whole life. Yes Uniqueness. That’s what I am talking about? What makes a life unique is what the individual is. What attracts people or a market to you is that niche that distinguishes you from others. What is your unique selling point (USP)? There must be something you should be known for. I don’t know what it is but you have to think about it and create that uniqueness for yourself. What are you ready to be known for? What did Jesus die for? What did the apostles of old die for? What did Martin Luther die for? What did Ghandi die for? What did Idahosa die for? What is Adeboye living for? What does Oyedepo exist for? What is Kumuyi preaching for? The list is endless. What is Dr. Omalu sacrificing for

WHEN WAHALA JAM GBESE! Final Episode!

My People for this Community! How una dey? Last week we started a story on Everyday People and we promised to finish the story this week.  In continuation of the story, below are the extracts from episode one: “I am saying WHEN WAHALA JAM GBESE NA PALAVA E GO GET! The problem became so much that even the neighbors became so uncomfortable with the whole arrangement. This trouble is worst anytime the Man and his wife made love in the night. Our aunty R will always pick a quarrel with the wife of the house. The most painful part is that this man will just disappear leaving the two women to dig it out with themselves. If you were in the shoes of this wife what would you do? Will you allow aunty R to squat with your family in the first instance? Will you ask your husband to drive his sister away? Will you fight your sister-in-law out of the house? Will you start a prayer program for aunty R? Will, you just allow everything to pass and hope for #BetterDaysAhead?”

FALLEN

Our Land was pure. The grass was green. Our Water was clean. The leaves could cure. We drank from the stream With leaves bridged to the rock as cups. As we laved our body under the heavy drops, Our body needed no cream. We were at peace The Palm wine tasted like honey. The village square was our group chat. Words were strong and laughter from the heart. Love was not bought with money. Our Farms yielded with interest. We had enough to eat and ship. Our eyes are closed when we sleep. We worked, worked and had our rest. We were not at war Our Merchants traveled South, West and North. With products of trade for exchange of coins. Women were married not just for groins. Deals were made, no one was fought. Then came the experts with hats and guns. They took our lands and made us Roomers. They deceived our neighbors and made us brothers. Our rights were taken and we became their puns. We were just neighbours They joined No