Colour My Life

Paint my life with an explosion of colours,

With beauty and hues of light.

For it has become dull and grey;

Infused with a sense that something is missing.

Colour my life with different shades:

With the sparkle of Spring

And the depth of Autumn; with the crispness

Of Winter and the sunshine of Summer.

For now it is the uncertainty of spring,

The brownness of autumn,

The iciness of winter

And the oppressive heat of summer.

Colour my life with Your perfect strokes.

Fill it with purpose and meaning,

With joy and peace,

So that I may become a bright light for You.

Paint me with the colours of Your love,

With the splendour of the tints of Your mercy.

Show me that this life is worth living,

That it can shine with the colours of You.

Colour this washed-out life

With the abundance of your hues,

With beauty and grace,

And with the vivid colours of the seasons.

27 Million Voices

Picture drawn by Jess Leigh

Yesterday was National Human Trafficking Day. So I thought I would post this poem I wrote during the week to create awareness on modern-day slavery.

For the 27 million people held in slavery all over the world

Their cries resound all over the earth;

Cries of suffering, cries of hopelessness.

Yet few really hear them, nor are there many left to care.

They are like a vanishing wind;

Whispers of their fate are heard, yet they are left unseen.

They are bound like broods of animals,

Living a life they did not choose;

A life stolen by another.

They are forced to go where they do not want to go,

They are forced to do what they wish not to do.

Their time on earth is a living hell,

Imposed and controlled by heartless ones.

There is no escape, there is no freedom;

They are chained to their unwanted fate

While their souls cry out in agony.

Can you hear them?

Their silent cries are echoing

Against every corner of the earth,

Pleading to be set free

While sinister fingers grip them mercilessly.

Some heed the call and head into battle,

Striving to save the captive ones.

Others turn a deaf ear, a blind eye

And their hearts turn to stone,

While 27 million voices continue to scream in silence.

A Scorching Tyrant

Oh the blistering rays of the summer sun

Beating against my head and eyes;

Whilst my brain fries and my energy is sapped

The sun shines bright with menacing glee.

The scorching heat is too much for me,

It weighs me down like a burden on my back.

Yet the African Sun has no mercy;

It torments those who are utterly defenceless.

Summer is like a tyrant reigning

For as long and harsh as possible.

Summer is like a cruel master,

Casting loads too heavy to bear.

Summer gives no grace to those who wish

For inspiration and consolation,

But instead clutches them in his hot fingers,

Not letting go until clouds and rain and Autumn save the         

    day.

Who loves thee, Oh African Summer?

Perhaps those who have much electrical wind inside

And deep, cool waters outside;

Perhaps those who eccentrically find heat a blessing.

But for us who feel it as a curse

Have to bear up under the weight

Of the scorching summer fire

Until the leaves wilt and turn brown and the wind begins to    

     blow.

P.S. My apologies to those who love summer; we are all different, so I hope you don’t mind me expressing my own opinion on summer, even if you don’t agree ;). 

Tear Drops

For parents who have had to bury a child

The moment the words met her ears

The mother fell to her knees without a say.

Something so heavy crashed upon her;

The weight of a sorrow that neither tears

Nor time shall ever carry away.

The loss of a young child

Is something none can fathom nor explain.

No mother should have to lay to rest

Her child; it is something that makes one wild

With unrelenting sorrow and pain.

How does one endure such loss, since

It has left one desolate, shocked, in the hole

Of despair, with no light to guide you home?

How does life continue when the absence

Of a loved one pierces the very soul?

Loss such as this causes the mother’s tear drops

To fall silently in her shattered world, where

She sees her child all around her.

Haunting her in sights, smells and shops

Are glimpses of a beloved childish pose and well-known eyes and hair.

Flitting about her is a precious record

Of a loved one who has passed on into

A better life, where she cannot now follow,

But instead must move onward,

Trying to see beauty in a horrific view

Amidst the harrowing pain and

Never-ending sorrow, is a comforting Presence,

Who is there to help her persevere.

He holds her in the loving palm of His hand,

And catches each tear drop that falls into the surrounding silence.

Heartbeat

For all the babies whose lives have been ended prematurely by the choice of their parents.

Unwanted they come, unwanted they go,

Their tiny heartbeats are not treasured

Nor their precious lives cherished; no

Instead they are seen as a problem

That needs to be destroyed, although

The heart of God is forever breaking

They grow in a dark and unseen place

That is meant to be safe, but instead

Is a hole of coming pain and un-grace.

Unloved, they leave the leave the world with hardly

A catch of light nor a glimpse of another’s face,

Their cries unheard and their tears unseen.

The ending of their heart’s tiny beat

Is accepted and justified as right by many,

Who feel not the fear nor the complete

Pain of the unseen ones who suffer in silence,

Their heartbeats ignored and their lives discreet

By the choice of those who carry them.

In this world, there is no resting place; none

At all for those who shall never have

The chance to live, laugh nor run

Nor to love, sing, speak or behold beauty,

But shall pass on as an unwanted one,

Their hearts stopped before their lungs’ first breath.

There is One who loves them still,

Whose heart is breaking in two over each stilled life.

He shall gather them to His Kingdom’s hill,

And cherish and love and delight in them there;

With all of His Fatherly heart, He will

Protect each heartbeat that others had cast aside.

A Land of Day Dreams

Written by Jess Leigh

I forgot what I was doing,

I forgot where I was

And, in a small way, I forgot who I was.

My mind played games with me;

Tricks as some might say.

It whispered strange stories in my ears.

Then it whisked me away on adventures,

It took me to places none had been,

To paths not travelled upon.

Eyes wide open, yet wholly unseeing,

I was no longer there;

My spirit was soaring on invisible wings.

I went to lands none can know.

Of my inmost thoughts and wild ventures,

I can reveal nothing to a soul.

To I alone do they have meaning,

To I alone does my mind speak

And carry away to another, unknown world.

There, none can touch nor harm me,

There my imaginations run wild

And the inventions of mine mind are free.

Where my mind takes me are others,

Others like me, and yet so dissimilar from me;

Others only I know; my friends alone.

With a pinch, with a word, with a shove

The visions fade and I am brought back again,

Only to return to my world at another time.

Can anyone guess the theme of this poem?