THE DIVINE WILL?

In this poem, I simply tried to question the criteria God uses to determine who dies, when, Why and How. I wondered whether, perhaps, like laboratory specimen, we are in the celestial order?

The actual incident that triggered this train of thought was a ferry accident in Mombasa. I had never imagined such a large number of people dying at once in the seemingly peaceful waters of the narrow channel separating Mombasa Island from the mainland. Prior to this, there had occurred a series of earthquakes leading to countless loss of lives elsewhere in the world. My basic question was and is - Did God create us during His free time as objects of Idle Fantasy?

My imagination was fuelled by the terror I used to experience whenever I rode a ferry across the channel. The ocean can be mysterious. This poem is a dedication to those who perished in the infamous ferry disaster.

At that time, an ominous hour,
Riding on the pinnacles of relentless power,
An emissary from divinity,
Careless and curious: It came.
Frenzied, formidable and furious-
A proclamation of the Divine Will to Kill.

Who, but the immortals,
Heirlooms of mortality through times gaping portals,
Could discern such insidious intent,
Stealthily creeping upon the earth's innocent,
Like the ghost of an alien and savage deity,
As deeply in sleep, not divine pity
But faith in tomorrow too humble
Saved us from the murderous rumble.

So we escaped!
Because it was an earthquake,
A harmless one of its kind,
Or maybe-
God changed His mind.

But not this time again,
When death slowly and silently came,
Clothed in a mist of misery and pain,
And as mercilessly as Abel and Cain,
Paid a homage of death to Mombasa.
Mtongwe Vanished,
WITHOUT SHAME!

It was all confusion,
Yes -
There was no escape from agony and anguish;
Certainly not for them -
Helpless passengers trapped in a ferry
Like sheep in a pen,
Waiting for the butcher's knife,
Only,
They did not know theirs was the ocean,
Calm and cold,
Deep and deadly,
Tranquil and tempting,
Waiting without warning to
Surprise, submerge and silently swallow
To kill.

Yes! Yes! Yes!
The waves Chorused,
While the ferry performed a deadly Dance in mid ocean.
THE SHORE AT LAST -they thought.

But time stopped in solid silence,
Expressing the Divine Will to
Still Humanity -
A token of whimsical labour,
As high on His Heavenly throne,
God gaped at the vain follies of,
Countless hours of idle fantasy;
For in a trice of time and terror
They all died lonely deaths.

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The life of a landscape photographer is a difficult one .....

The life of a landscape photographer is a difficult one ....., a photo by jeffiebrown on Flickr.

Nothing has been more inspiring to mt creative bent as glorious sunsets. The poem I am posting tonight was inspired by the sight of a beautiful maiden washed by the silvery rays of a sun setting on the backdrop of a cool April evening when tender shoots of greenery were singing joys songs of.... , Visit the post if you enjoy this

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Ever More No More

The pain of not having an aim,

The pain of watching dreams Slain

By the aim of making gain,

Is a game hard to tame.

Time, they say, erases pain!

But pain stretches time forever,

Never welcoming peace again -

And so pain remains,

Overseeing the remains of dreams

Drowning in the depths of life's streams,

Whose death echo chimes of sorrow

For nothing awaits tomorrow.

Now my heart has a stain

That always will stay;

Fraying the purity of my soul,

Slowly,surely killing the spirit;

Extinguishing the light within;

Enthroning darkness evermore,

And so my life means no more.

I wrote this poem one morning when nothing seemed to make sense out of my struggles to be a writer. And for some inexplicable reason, when I started writing I was so happy but when I put the full stop, I suddenly lost grip and collapsed in a wave of racking sobs. Catharsis? Was it that!

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