The Lord is my shepherd,
Though I sleep on the street;
I shall not want
Even when crumbs don’t come by easily;
To peruse it’s taste on my buds,
lying down on his green pastures.
Romancing his grace under bridges,
Cuddling tough stones on my beds of algae.
He restores my soul;
To remind me I still have hard days to face,
As I wake up each day,
With a head up high and a heart
that knows not where to go.
Even though I walk through the valley,
Haunted by the shadows of death.
I know that the deafening echoes of fear
has been my companion,
For I have heard lots of dirges hurled at what ought to be a reunion.
I heard he’s with me,
Even while Uncle Chike’s rod discomforts me;
With his rough hands all over me,
The seed of his groin leaves to live in me.
And he prepares a table before me,
In the presence of my fears and depression.
My tears overflow like the water
that spring forth from earth,
should I say;
wiping tears with the blouse of my skirt…
Goodness and Mercy shall follow me;
Like the arm-folds of guardian angels
that claim they watch over me,
With no shelter and food;
I shall dwell on this earth,
combing this unending tunnel of hell
All the days of my lives,
Until this God remember there is hell on earth,
He has me still in his heart.