Vanessa Banda-Chidhumo

The Sting Of Death by Vanessa Banda-Chidhumo

  • I could be paranoid
  • You can correct me if I’m wrong,
  • But there’s now this void,
  • Of hope evaporating from my soul,
  • Under the scorching heat of a cruel sun.
  • But can I call you sun?
  • You feel more like a dark cloud, yet you burn like a fiery hell.
  • Just one sting and your intentions are clear.
  • You wish to disrupt all things I hold dear.
  • You could sting me next, or my loved one on my next.
  • Bringing me to a standstill, paralyzed with fear.
  • We gather together, for warmth around the flames.
  • No one dares to open their mouths and say your name.
  • Least you hear us and take it as a call,
  • For you to come knocking on our door.
  • We hear you though, your footsteps outside our home.
  • Your cold shadow lingering, a terrifying form.
  • Patiently waiting, or maybe impatiently.
  • Seeing how you are never satisfied.
  • But I do not want to be afraid of you anymore.
  • Oo how I wish to be like the great Apostle Paul.
  • Who against you stood up tall,
  • He saw through you, called on your bluff and folklore,
  • The tales you told us for so long,
  • That you are a master, you were wrong.
  • Oh Death, now where is your sting?
  • It no longer holds us, this fear you bring.
  • We have been rescued by our resurrected KING.
  • A living hope, our hearts now sing,
  • That we shall not die, but we shall live.
  • Though this body behind we leave,
  • A glorified body, incorruptible the King shall give,
  • To His beloved children for eternity to live.
  • Your sting to us was fear, right?
  • You made us tremble at the mention of your name to give up fight.
  • You made us ‘hush hush” so we could give each other false hope,
  • So that when you eventually strike, we would think hope is false.
  • But our eyes are now opened to the hope that abides.
  • We will stare you in the face when you come.
  • Give me your best shot, do your worst harm.
  • My body will fall away, but to eternity fly away.
  • What you intended as loss has become my gain.
  • For I am a seed, I multiply when I die.

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By Michael Furlonger

I am an author and the founder of CWB is designed to help and showcase the work of Christian authors and bloggers and podcasters.

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