Who do I turn to?
Who will listen to my tales of woe?
Stories written in blood and sacrifice
Telling of the pains and loss
Which scar my body
Weakening it of its resolve to live.
Who will look through the mirror?
Strewn with shards of shattered dreams
Whispers from eons past
Of a future with my beloved
Cruelly snatched by fate.

Where do I turn?
Life made me believe that the right was right
And the left was wrong
Which was not to be
For the right sucked me in
Stripping me of my dignity
Ridding me of all I call my own
And throwing me out to the cold streets.
I have nothing.
Even the left promised nothing
But days spent in regret
Crying for that which would have been
And forgetting to live in the moment.

The gods have forsaken me.
The water promised tranquility
Vocalising songs that'll put an angel to sleep
Only to rob him of his estate.
The mountains roared security
A shield from the storms
And a backbone for the weak days
Only to break me on a week day.
Trust in the unseen is futile
For the gods love only themselves
And man is powerless to intervene.
The path of life is a blur before me
With the cardinal points in a tango
Losing all sense of direction.
Who can restore order to chaos
Ironing the wrinkles of confusion
And hanging up the cloak of sorrow?
Who can save me?
Where do I go for help?
Who do I turn to?



© Victoria Omoghena Edidi

Deep!

When all things seemed fail, one must retain inner strength to see where the ray of the light in the dark cloud is coming from.
There is still a God that saves
There is still a path to go.



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