Deborah Esther T Ngullie
The tongues of all naysayers pressed me down; Multiplied everyday to deep pierce me, Reckoning my inefficaciousness in their hot displeasure, For my failures, on and on they cursed. Affrontedly growled in my ears that will not let me be my Father's daughter.
The feeling of superiority filled their hearts long ago. Hatred, the only wave towards me and threw me off at the edge, Burned me with those ludicrous words until... Perhaps my days of yore showed less white roads run, Perhaps they made me not above the ordinary line.
Then a mixture of feelings stormed in my mind, as just as equal. That old night, I ponderously breathed, Laying a whisper on my pillow, never to back down on something I believe. Then, gathered the pieces of my heart's debris, And a sabres in my hands to fight o'er vales and hills.
This heart again spread like red tint on ripening berries- I will shiver not, the summer air stays. Perhaps, the better forth, crimsoned with joy. Let them be, as naysayers they will be asleep its fragrance still lingers. With faith, I shall lilt ever beyond infinite ways.
