And then the morning of peace came
After the turbulence of
The unexpected preterm birth of
My precious gift.
Peace from within was felt,
A voice was heard,
It was the voice and
Look at the field of dry bones,
Toiling in the teeth of the sun
Crumbling and toiling still.
The heart of the defenceless,
The fragile and the vulnerable,
The rubies of the world
The destinies of tomorrow
That are yet becoming.
This brings sea of tears
Spokespeople of earth’s dross
Fire in your tongue and thunder your voice.
These sea of tears must be wiped.
They must be wiped
By the very little of your freely given time
These beating hearts must count.
Akor Joy Ene