My stockinged feet
Pound down this paved road,
It’s the dead of the night.
My heart beats loud as gunfire,
My eyes dart nervously
As I look over my shoulders.
My breathing hurts my lungs.
All I hear are crickets,
And the slight rustle of leaves.
I’m sorely tempted to take a break,
The night seems to stretch
Out before my twin legs, darkness.
Yet, I can make out the skeletons,
By the roadside,
Of those, who took shelter beneath this trees!
I can make out the outlines,
Of sharp canine molars,
Deeply etched on their cranial muscles!
So even though each breath is a struggle,
My feet never stop moving,
My eyes close in desperate prayer!
“Though I walk through the, valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for thou are with me.
Thy words and thy rod, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me, in the face of my enemies.
Thou annointed my feet with oil, my cup overflows,
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me for the rest of this journey…
My feet shall keep moving!
Written by: Chikatito Jones
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson