September 02
Many years have passed,
The sound of trumpet and brass
It was like a call of solace.
So I pulled off the curtain;
They were worshippers.
They told me God was there,
They said it was the gathering of the saints.
So I watched them dance,
And I wanted to dance too.
Yesterday night,
I cradled my son through the silent streets,
Chasing the painted promises of a distant God..
I knew if I laid him down on the altar,
I would have him with me again.
So I rushed there at night,
Like the woman with the issue of blood.
Alas! ’Tis night, the guard clapped back:
“We can’t open the church for you to pray
Until when the saints are gathered.”
Tears fell like unanswered prayers,
As my son faded into the night,
On the solemn September 02..
