the making of a son

This poem is dear to my heart, it was written in 2014, a couple of hours to my 22nd birthday. It was initially titled ‘Reflections’ and has passed through the Refiner’s fire many times. It was ‘performed’ at Ablaze 2015 with over 600 freshmen in attendance.I pray it blesses your heart and draws you closer to Abba Father.

………….
My inheritance was the slavery that my fathers sought to keep
It became my own undoing
It was only natural that I walked in the path that was laid before me
And so my journey as a slave began

I was proud of my heritage
And I became an addict
To everything that looked good
My eyes were the end of me

I sold everything for my next fix
I thought that I would die without it
That was an illusion that he painted
And I believed every lie
I became primed for the next best thing
The newest drug on the market- ecstasy

Every high took me to cloud nine,
But the lows, took me to a place where
I thought of ten different ways to end my life
Where I set my clothes on fire
Broke dishes in anger

For it I sold my peace,
It was true love
He brainwashed me, filled my head with lies
Compelled me to forget the one who made me
Gave me something else to serve

I ran until I came to the end of myself
Until the ‘I Am’ found me; strung out and homeless
With bits and pieces of dignity
Worthless, not worth saving, suicidal
I cast my pearls among swine
Content with eating with dogs

Until, you pulled on the strings of my heart
And flooded my eyes with light
Your love for me is red-hot fire burning
Brick by brick, I lay down my walls
Beat by beat, my new heart beats in sync with yours
Step by step, our feet step
Stroke by stroke, my pen is yours

I will forever be chasing after you, as sure as the dawn,
As certain as the sun will rise
Your presence is my heaven, it is where I found myself
Where my mess became yours
You keep me from falling, you continually renew my strength
And you gave me the right to call you Abba
I choose You today, forever my all in all
Without You, living is a dead existence

(c) Olamide Oti, 2014

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The Rising

I see oil
Trickling down
Like droplets of rain
In a storm a-rising

I see Him- Potter
Molding the clay to His will
Drawing the hearts of fathers to himself
Finding the lost and healing the broken

I see fire
Spreading relentlessly
Through the hearts of men
Like dry leaves in harmattan

I see the eyes of sons light up with knowledge
As the daughters worship recklessly
I hear Angels sing in adoration
As grace flows from the Mercy Seat

I see Jesus rise with healing in His wings
As the earth and heavens fold
Sin and Death cower in defeat
As soldiers are called into battle

I see the waves crash
As the deafening roar of His voice
Thunders through the air
Like the sound of many waters