WOE OF MAN (CRAZY STANZAS)

They deemed me; a little shoot, weak
Too fragile to any good seek
And God did give them a puzzling trick
Storms uprooted
I fell and they laughed
But He kept my roots intact
Throwing loamy soil on them
Giving them fair rains
Fair sunlight
And fair air

II
Still neglected
I grew with loads that got them interested
They watched
Watched and watched keenly
None rooting
All expecting another storm to uproot
Most expecting hunger to hold hands with thirst
To shoot with a killing bullet
Storms after storms caused me to fall
But like a branch
He made me malleable
Waking me from the painful slumber
With a smear of determination balm

III
Time opened wide their mouths
Making them houses of filthy houseflies
As bees of lost bets stunk their intestines
What grand walking sticks are known for
Has been done
And is still being done
By a common weed
So they device another plan
“She must have stolen powers,
Powers not meant for this world”
But He protects and protects
This weed will forever be a weed
God has made His point
Will and zeal work
There is nothing like gender in His records
There is nothing like flesh in His records
There is nothing like height in His records
There is nothing like “can’t do” in His record
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015