I SEE A CHANGED MAN… by Olajuwon Joseph Olumide

Read Time:1 Minute, 56 Second

O’er the years that I weeded vices through my lips with satire
Like I’m no flesh, acclaiming myself – a hallowed messiah;
A sage prophet that I feigned, a braggart in fuzzy vision –
Yes! That drunken state of my folly, woe be unto its deception!

While mere mortal deeds soured my heart, I had cast a stone
Till I saw a true man of justice above, seated on His throne.
Light up that hour, let my deliverance canon in the air boom
That my soul might transcend beyond vain trance of my past doom!

Like a ray, heavenly vision pierced cataract of my impeded insight,
Projecting the parable of a prophet of doom before my timid behold
Who belched belligerence at folks of a spherical cosmos, shredded apart!
But what seemed more irreparable – his sullen heart; he failed to scold.

And though he could unravel every uncanny scribe of ages on the wall,
On the field of his implacable mind, viable seed of love was nipped!
…Imperiously hurling scathing pebbles – ‘change thy horrid ways’, he ranted!
Ne’er would he notice his brutality, starring at him via the world’s mirror.

How a supposed lamp to mortal feet in an obscure world turned fire that scorched!
Prior to the reckoning day, had not he evoked hell on earth to judge?
Thus, see the accusing finger up there, tingling the nucleus of my conscience;
And my impetuous mind, cautioned by the reverberation of its insightful voice:

”Though the sons and daughters of Adam are damn desperate!
And yes! Their blood boils beyond the queer temperate;
Hath thou not lavished cowries of abhorrence in their imperfect market
Where just a token of charity could be a barter of making it perfect?

Unlike that old prophet whose undone sacrifices contorted the face of God
Ignoring the altar of brotherly reconciliation – the image of Whom he could see;
The shackles of my doom, broken! Now, I can see a changed man in me
On this hill of transfiguration, sounding gong of change to the ears of the world!

***OLAJUWON JOSEPH OLUMIDE won the August Edition of the BRIGITTE POIRSON POETRY CONTEST 2015 with this poem.