The Word for Writers

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Frederick Kwesi Great Agboletey


Walls, ancient walls

I rest my tired head against this ancient wall
Red bricks of rich laterite
Hundreds of years ago, put by faithful hands one upon another
To raise these magnificent edifice to honour our God
Jehovah Lord of Hosts
These rising wall, raised as though man were giving glory to God in stone
A cathedral expression of His mighty gloriousness, cavernous and awe inspiring in its ringing silence
These cold stones against my cheek, whispering, echoes of generations long past
Echoes of centuries long gone yet still here for those who can to see and hear –

These stones, mortars and bricks that make this mighty wall a lofty edifice
They have over time assumed maturity of aged wisdom
A calm repose of deep things of spiritual weightiness
Deep emotions have soaked them with final gasps of emotions stronghold burst and contained
Here, amidst this cavernous silence of rising walls were rivers of tears contained
As Angelic presences touched and healed
A life time of prayerful search opened portals of heavenly beauty in sight of these walls
When wisdom was a silent ascent of gentle acknowledgement as though wonders as these were only meant to be –

Old wall, warming to touch
Whispering silent hope
Your energy of endurance seeping through my tired arms
Sturdy bulwark against elements, piece by piece assembled by puny hands of men long gone
You have become a storehouse of emotions and a reminder of what is possible
Wall rising flush upwards, your gaze is a gentle embracing calmness
You never push back, always sustaining in your quiet strength -

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