WHY DOES HE LIVE?
The sickness sank deep this time;
The little baby’s cry became a scream:
Whaaaa! Whaaaaa! Whaaaa!
The scream created a scene
And then began to cease.
Death delivered his package:
Ah, the child died!
The mother cried for her dead;
The father’s sorrow melted into silence.
Being wasting of money to buy a casket,
A carton was brought for the body.
A little sermon in a cemetery might be
Heard, if not immediately.
But a neighbor, a Pastor, had another thought.
“This child is not dead, this child lives”.
His faith went into action.
He prayed to the heavenly father
And the child, to everyone’s amazement,
Became a living soul.
But why should he live?
Why should he come back to
This wicked world of ours?
Ten years(?) later, the child traveling home from
School met the messenger again:
Their bus lost control and
Crashed into a filling station.
Wheels of the bus faced the sky;
The body was compressed beyond recognition.
“Who will survive?” was a question
No one dares answer.
But from the opening where the
Wind screen used to be came the boy.
He had no wound, no internal injury, but was
Only drenched by urine “showered” on him by
Unconscious, if not fatally wounded co-passengers.
Why did the child live?
Why?
Where is God leading him?
It’s been many years from then,
But why does he still suffer so much?
Why is his life so full of sadness?
Why is his life so different,
Even to his own detest?
Why do I still live?
Why?
By Nkematics
© 2008 Nkematics
(All rights reserved)
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