Lost Hope

Filed Under: Artists Work, Artists Works, Broken, care, days, Emotional, hope, imperfect, Inspiration, Life, love, Poems, Zambia, zambian writers

by R. Kay

Hold on, I need Help with Hope.

Pessimism is having me attached to it as a crackhead and dope.

Achievement, ambition and anticipation is a steep slope.

I’m slipping.

 

No point of operation stance is eating up my mind as thirsty fleas on a mammal.

They’ve sucked my principal, productivity and position my posture is pumped out.

It’s wasted more than blood of the woman who had hemorrhage.

How will holding the robe of Jesus help this time when I’m skeptic.

 

I’m skeptic I seek security, safety and I can’t sacrifice.

Yes, I can’t sacrifice.

Because this word had big blunt nails pierce through someone’s flesh as an arrow

Launched on an idle impala.

 

It knocked them down on ternary occasions.

And on ternary occasions they were put down.

A crown of thorns placed on them.

I can only imagine how the thorns would scribble round their head as it was being placed.

 

I ask myself, am I ready?

It’s fancy fortune and feathers to fly that I seek.

From a distance I gaze a golden glittering gemstone.

I look at the path to it and I’m reminded of the Guy who sacrificed.

 

Can I label?

Of course I want to, but I see my delight diminishing like a smoldering wick.

He says “look I was a bruised reed, but I was kept firm.

Of course I could have risen magnificent just there but that ain’t no glory compared,

 

See how years have been numbered.

Who do you think that was for?

Yours of course.

You not in this alone,

I have a comforter just beside you,

he’s been waiting on you.

Yes he’s been waiting on you,

He’s been waiting on you just to say,

Just to say,

COME ON IN!