Poem: My pen

It’s not the contents of this pen that cloud my mind

It’s the suffering and the pain of my fellow human beings

That gives me sleepless nights

I am pierced by painful memories from my childhood

I am disturbed by the growing cancer in our streets

Society is hopelessly holding on delusions

Promises made by vampires that feed on their daughters and sons

Selling them lies from the garden of wickedness

I am broken into pieces of light

To shed light into the deepest wounds

And bring healing to the hopeless and fearful

My pen is not a political tool

To address the nation or the world

My pen is a spiritual knife

To undress the darkness

To unveil the path of Love

And ignite the fire of hope

My pen does not hold hate or damnation

It’s the truth that will set you free

My pen is not a weapon against reality or injustice

It’s a scissor that shreds the wicked mind

And opens the channel of awareness

My pen is clearly not diluted by evil spells

It’s composed of the particles of light

To illuminate the heart and pave the way to everlasting life

My pen is a molecule on the fabric of existence

That holds life together

And brings hope to each and every heart

My pen is not a hospital or church house

It’s the spirit of God that paves the way

I am drunk from the cup of His Love

©Kenneth Maswabi

(17-06-2020)