SKELETON IN MY CLOSET

 Sometimes,

Just sometimes alone,

Lost in the caves of thoughts,

Wondering like a snow bear,

My mind turned into a marathon field.

Sometimes I'm a lost character.

I am a poet,

But I have no name,

I'm like a blank drawing book,

I have no lines to trace,

Not my mother, not my father,

I'm like Jacob's brother; farmer to them,

I'm great; but for what?

How can lemon yield orange?

I would have been a skeleton now,

The knife was too close to the heart,

I would have been a sacrifice,

Whether clean or unclean before the Master,

Her ocean of hatred drowned her love,

I was always a bother and unwanted,

I survived heat in the desert,

Some memories are too wild to remember.

I have only my wife and daughter,

The lights that always shine my path,

I am nothing without them,

They've turned my dark past,

Now I can shed my own light,

The world now know me,

But still I'm unknown; this drives me crazy.

I hide behind social media,

I put on a smiling face,

Deep inside are deadly rivers,

Lakes that are never navigable,

I yearn to get off this old me,

Walk a path to inspire and motivate,

                                                                                                                      

Climb up the mountains and down valleys,

A prophecy made many decades ago,

I am for greatness and God knows that.

© Wanda's Ink Pen 

® Wanda The Poet ✍️

@Hunters media house

#TheHandofGod

Email: shokoshugitakeshi@gmail.com

Name: Kennedy Ochieng

Country Kenya 🇰🇪