Paying back Papa…?

Razor is my man, loves me and calls me “son”. speaks to me like a Father so I joined his gang “Blades in the Hood”, sooner than later.

My boy self was chained tight to papa, crying like a sissy every night, since he slammed the door shut, his face never again to see.

I lie… I see his face still… even at night curled up like a child.

I see his face in grown men

withering in pain,

crying out,

begging for mercy,

everytime our knives and guns do their thing…target their prey.

And I hear the laughing voice in my head “pay back time!”. Feeling like superman, chains unlocked and riding high…

But …but another voice like mama’s rings louder “life is a lie, get help now!”

Life is a lie, I need help now!

©️26-12-2018 DENyamekye

If you have been affected by this poem (it reminds you of someone) highlighting mental health issues and would like personal (or for someone) prayer, counselling and additional information of where to get help, please email: thewitnessinstitute@gmail.com

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Prayer (Mental Health)

Dear Heavenly Father,

I pray for those suffering a paralysis of mind and life in general, unable to move on due to hidden childhood scars rooted in abuse and rejection which has resulted in a scarred life; attitudes and acts that continue to be damaging to them and those around them. 

Father you know what each of us has been through and goes through on a daily basis. We cannot hide anything from you. 

I ask that you heal us in our inner man, and deliver us from pretence and falsehood so that our true selves, who you created us to be would emerge fully to the glory of your name. 

For those who are yours in Christ, we desire to be effective witnesses of your kingdom so heal us completely so that we can do the good that we know to do according to your word. 

I pray that you will graciously draw to yourself, multitudes who are suffering in general and particularly in relation to their mental health, that they will find healing and comfort in your Word and the ministry of deliverance in the power of your Holy Spirit.  

In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

Man Child…Still

74DF8A8A-1CF3-4F1B-BD45-25A90478E711A poem inspired by the image (I borrowed: Author unknown) above:

The Man Child …Still

The contours around
his eyes are cracked
with smile tracks.
They hide internal
frowns, a well-worn
mask.

Speaking to please,
he engages in many a
tiresome task for
accolades and praise.

Still, his inner man
hears the voices of dread,
feels dad’s hands hitting
his head. He wants to run,
but no where is there to hide.

So he fakes strength
and a life of fun.
”Anything goes” for
ecstasy and mirth.

Still, his inner child
dreads the break of day
sits cross-legged,
head buried as in sand,
wishing he would die or be
blown away.

Still…

©️20-Oct.2018 DENyamekye

If you have been affected by this poem and would like personal prayer, counselling and additional information of where to get help, please email: thewitnessinstitute@gmail.com