Everywhere you go
Everybody sees a mask;
Self-proclaimed image,
What you want them all to see;
And you're just like me.
I've worn my mask for so long
That I believe it.
I've buried it all so deep —
So you can't see it —
But I can't see it, either.
What if I showed you
What's behind this mask of mine?
You'd be my mirror—
You could tell me what I am,
Since I can't see it.
Maybe I will find myself
And remove my mask.
But it is clearly too much
To ask of you, sir.
So, I'll be content with this:
With only seeing your mask.

It rains heavily...
Roofs leaking, water seeping

Bless'd against my will...
As the tropical storms rage

Causing chaotic...
Rattled windows, doors and gates

All over the house...
Creating theatrical effects

As lightning flashes...
And thunder follows behind

Children play outside...
Trivializing the weather

A good one for sleep...
Except for the leaking roofs

New holes emerging...
Brings to mind a nursery rhyme,

"Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day"

Back then reasons were...
"Little children want to play"

I can't help but sigh!
With the aftermath in view...

Soaked beds, sheets and drapes...
Smelly rugs for days to come

Wrecked roofs and ceilings...
Flooded streets mixed with sewage.

Showers of blessings indeed!


© Raphael Uzor

He's a streamlined man,
now on the road to return.
The spirit farmer,
taking breakfast in the fields,
found his sister soul
and his woman of the world.
He was running blind
with no aerial boundaries.
To communicate
he would watch his life go by
because it was there,
the taproot, the naked stalk.
Free swinging soul, with
silent anticipations.
A Phoenix fire
torched, is once again spring buds.
And ready or not,
the Gospel, the Oracle.