Wrapping my slender frame tenderly,
Forcing me to recognise its warmth
Through the frigid night that seems unending
Am so aware of the cloak of grace
Like a savoury meal in the midst of the fast
I am reminded that I will make it.
Not by my efforts or plans
Ah! No, not of me….
My hurt heart could not love so deeply,
Even if I had willed it with all my mind.
My mind marred by the trickling of spiteful spats
Knew that its ability to believe Gracious words
Was divinity at its best from another in me.
I’d been serenaded long before I realised;
So I stepped out of me,
Responded with much gusto to the embrace,
Gratitude for grumbling a great exchange for all seasons.
© 2013, Oghale Otokunefor. All rights reserved.