Horrors in Utopia

It fails me, it now fails me

My emotions are locked up,

Fighting to break free

Yet smothered by…

I can’t tell.

Beyond my control, my body trembles…

Another strange fit of rage

Heralds the need to assuage my heart

It sears away my dreams

Reality is now too real

Eating into a world of perfection

I dare not steal another glance

Why now?

How can words fail me…how?

My nerves are razor-sharp,

A tango with hysteria

I sit and wait…fingers frozen on a harp

As horrors engulf my Utopia

Christmas and the Contrite Hearts.

So the season is here again...best wishes, church crusades, last-minute shopping, family reunions, lots of food, drinks, travelling, a long list of those. But most importantly, New Year Resolutions. So what's it about the season and the sudden development of contrite hearts in the chests of most men? I think I might have a little idea why. Let's take me for instance, I can feel mine beating irregularly right now- my heart, down flat in contrition. It's as if I fell asleep in January and when i woke up, voila! December. Time...precious time - moves terribly fast. I remember reading a poem in one of  my final exams this semester- last Thursday, talking about time. I just sat there and read the poem over and over again, almost forgetting I was in an exam hall and time; same old time, was running out. It hit me so hard -  the chunk of it I had wasted...it hit me hard.
But hey, I'm not here to talk about me, oh no, no, not at all. That is my private affair! I'm just here to talk, in general about everything that might concern all of us- might concern you, personally if you take time to think of it. Okay, so I will confront a few major shortfalls we might have all encountered throughout the year and we'll see where that goes.

First on the list is Fear. Yep, that dirty old monster! Now who hasn't been a coward before?? Raise your hands please...well congratulations, you with you hands up! You have never been held back by fear ever in your life, that is awesome!!! Well, some of us suffer withdrawal symptoms when fear is not around. We have spent years and years in fear, we miss it when it goes on holidays. Is that feeling familiar? You might not outright admit it but with careful reflection it might dawn on you, yeah! it sure had been holding you back from taking some giant 'leap of faith' sometime throughout the year. People, lets admit it, fear sucks! It taunts you, threatens you, laughs in your face. We have got to teach it a lesson, don't you think? Now it is scattered all over in the Bible, I don't know exactly how many times but I last heard it was 365 times (I hope I'm right cos I don't want to add any extras to the Bible) that we should not, must not, never even attempt, to fear! DO NOT FEAR! Alright preaching over! Let's just make silent resolutions to kick fear out once and for all before the new year arrives, so help us God.

Second is that other guy called Procrastination. Have you ever had a personal, very intense hatred for an alarm clock before? Hmm! Or maybe your phone? You set the alarm, time catches, it goes off, you hit snooze, minutes later it goes off, you hit snooze again, and then the battle continues for a while until time slowly inches away into nothing! You take your own sweet time to wake up and then start rushing around, trying to squeeze just too much into some poor little time left..and then when time complains, you pull at your hair. Why then do you even set the alarm? It's our nature to drag our feet around, hesitant to do what we know we have got to do, until the 11th hour, then rush, rush ,rush!!! It is evident every semester in our reading rooms, department libraries and the almighty Balme. Oh, let me not forget the newly added 24, where most pillows are now seriously intimate with. I am very much as guilty as you all. Damn! That popular quote about procrastination being something with, or of, or to time...sh*t! I can't remember. Anyway, no need to sound 'wise' right now so all I can say is. 'Tomorrow never comes' (at least I got that right) So yeah, procrastination is next in line to the slaughterhouse.

Now who can say he/she is not a 'rational' human being? Definitely we all are. But is it always a good thing? I woke up one morning and there and then decided not to take my bath. No one asked me anything, no one scolded me, but I had a serious fight with some voice in my head, and of course I won. Don't we always win against that voice? I came up with amazing reasons to defend my decision. Rationalization. I fought so hard to justify why I needed not to take my bath that morning.  I had taken my bath late the previous night, it was a Saturday and I wasn't planning on going out., and on and on. Why, that's no big deal, not taking my bath one Saturday morning. But we don't leave the rationalization there, over the little things. We carry it with us everywhere. So you have already justified why you should stay late out with your friends (its just a harmless girls night out), and you justify why those boys can come along (oh, they are just our friends and besides it will be fun), oh and alcohol is being served but that's okay (cos it's just 5% vol.) jeez, my head is beginning to feel light I must stop after this last one (ah, but can I get more drunk than I already am?) and look at this cute guy in my face looking like he wants to kiss me (go for it and blame it on the alcohol!). Now relate this to other scenarios you can think of...having sex with some random guy, getting rid of that 'unwanted' pregnancy, cheating on a test...its been 11 months and a couple of weeks, the year is almost done, the big clock is ticking, have you done some major justifications yourself? I know I did, but as I said, not talking about me. We know what's right from what's wrong, maybe we should just channel all our energetic rationalizations and justifications towards what's right. So go ahead and add that to the list...Positive rational behavior - Check!

I don't want to say too much, cos people hate to read too much but I just want to end with something that has been on my mind these few days. We are a bunch of filthy wrong-doers, oh yes we are. At least I know I am. We look up to the peak of the mountain, bursting with energy, adrenaline pumping at the start of the year and we head out, spirits high, up the mountain and bam! we fall...we wallow there for a while, get nudged up, and we start over, we fall, and we fall and we fall again. God knows how many times I have been there. And we tend to get tired of falling, cos we suffer bruises each time we fall so we are tempted to stay on the ground the next time we fall cos we feel we are better off down there, that son-of-a-***** called fear comes in at this point, fear of falling again. No matter how big your injury after your last fall, I think you should get up and start again. Look, the fact that we try again and fall yet again does not mean we should stop trying. Hell no! I think it only means we must change our strategies, train harder for the race, lick up more glucose powder as we run up, it is terribly steep, who says its not? But look around you, you are not alone on the track.

Christmas for us Christians is a perfect time to reflect, not only because it's the end of the year, but because it's a holy time full of blessings and miracles...to all you men with your chests heavy with contrite hearts, you better shed some tears of joy like I'm doing behind this virus-infested laptop of mine right now, because you just got your share of blessings. The Lord has fueled our hearts with contrition and we have got to make good use of it. Don't wait for another year, fuel prices might shoot up!

I got to go before I get dehydrated from too much crying, lol.

Merry, merry Christmas!!! And lots of best-wishes to all those contrite hearts. Mwuaaaaaah!!!

And So We Asked For Peace...?

I am not letting anyone in on how I feel about the election results. Elated? Sad? Honestly, I don't know. But Ghanaians are funny ooh! We don't take things too seriously and that's for our own good.

So Mahama won! (I can still hear jubilation in town). NPP is refusing to go down without a fight and some people are saying, 'All lose be lose'. Anyway, did you hear Hassan Ayariga? lol He came out to concede defeat. Hilarious! Was that necessary? He said, based on the party's investigations and projections, the PNC had lost, but further investigations were going to be made to find out what caused the party to lose (how ironic!) At least they won a couple of seats in parliament.

Muntaka won his seat again?! Why?? Makes me wonder what people look out for in the candidates. Some people will vote for anything, so far as it is in the party they favor. (I once heard one strong party 'A' person say: "Even if the flagbearer for party 'A' is a goat, I will still vote for it!") Interesting.

Ei Ursula Owusu! Iron Lady. She wasn't loud-mouthed for nothing ooh...she secured the seat!

But Ras Mubarak too paa, how else did he want them to count the ballot papers? Doesn't he know how to lose?? He should ask Ofosu- Ampofo!    

Ahah, so what are the NDC saying?? E Dey Beeeee Keke!!! Their 'John Mahama Dey Bee" track was not bad at all! Four more years- we have given it to them so we must all get ready for over 200 new schools, teacher-training colleges in every region and abi you know, QUALITY EDUCATION.

Didn't you hear? Some NDC guy, (what's his name again?...Dela! Yeah, yeah, Dela Edem). He prophesied by quoting from the Bible (or was it another book that looked like it?) on Peace FM a few days back before the election - (Romans 35:8) - no man must say "all die be die", for it is not true. The son of man died to set us all free...it was not just any common 'die' ooh...hw3!! it was the greatest 'die' of all! Is it not true? Whoever says "all die be die" is trying to say that, that die too was a die but it wasn't!
However, I opened my Bible to read this guy's quotation and alas, it was no where to be found. Last time I checked, Romans still had only 16 chapters. Ah but this guy paa! Which book was he quoting from again??

So legon campus, is that how you people are?? After the standing fans, free bus rides, tear-rubber KIA picanto's, cash, laptops, notepads (some sleek one be too ooh), and so on, you didn't vote for the NDC guy (Awuah-Darko)? Aaaah, so you wanted the pure water the NPP guy (Kyeremateng Agyarko) was distributing eh? But I must admit the water too is sweet...lol. Oh Awuah-Darko sorry ooh. But as for that cute baby boy of yours, i'll have a daughter for him soon! Herh! Boy no y3 chupa-chops papa! And Agyarko too, so it's true that you have 3 wives? ei Barima!! Yoo, it is none of my business.

I can go on and on, and truth be told, I might be back with more to off-load but what is done is done. Whether 'E Dey Bee', or 'Yebedii' Keke, we are being ushered into part two of the whole show. It has been a one of a kind ride, from Woyomisation to Ayarigation with some gargantuanism in-between. It's all good! We asked for peace, and so far, with the view I have from my room some where in Tema community 18, I think we have it

But before I leave I want to again pray for the souls of our late President John Evans Attah-Mills, and former vice-president Hon. Aliu Mahama (Ei Charley, this year too big men were called paa ooh. Hmm!). May they continue to rest in peace as we also continue to pray for peace periodically.

Catch you later!!

A Need to Forget

It was 1am when we arrived. At such an unholy hour, we were there at the cemetery. Boakye, my kid brother, tip-toed close behind me - his breathing sounded heavy and irregular.

“Keep a hold on yourself, you girl! You got us into this mess, remember?”  

He mumbled a reply that was barely audible and sighed.

As we inched slowly towards our targeted tombstone, my mind quickly traveled back to that blasted morning when I unwisely stood up to my brother’s long-time bully, only to be caught up in a dare-war. I comforted myself with the awareness that finally, many years down life’s rugged lane, I would sit my grandchildren down and say, “In my lifetime, I looted a paramount chief’s grave”. I would be happy to watch their eyeballs dilate to splitting point. But before any of that, I needed to tackle the current situation first. I felt a well of unusual pride. For the first time, in all my 18 years on earth, I was doing something thoroughly illegal.

As if on cue, I heard what sounded like the howl of a wounded dog, but I knew it came from Boakye. He was nowhere to be found. I had no idea when I had lost him or he had lost me, or whatever was out there had got him, but adrenaline had set in and all I could think of was finding my 15-year old brother before it was too late. It seemed my feet knew where they were going because I got to him and there he was, laying in a coffin with blood splashed across his chest. His eyes were vacant and it took me a moment to snap out of the shock I was in and notice his chest moving…he was alive!

Three years, and he still had not spoken a word. I know I should have told the truth but then after I had realized that night, that the blood on him had not been his there was no point in talking about it to anyone. We only needed to get home quietly. At that time, I had thought he was in shock but I was also very sure it was a prank we had fallen directly into and the worst that was going to happen was that our lives will fall back to how they had always been. I live a lonely quiet life – no friends, no sports life, no boys, and absolutely no fun. And my brother gets his too-smart and bookish self extremely bullied. I was wrong.

There had been no change, he said nothing, and he hardly ate. Visits to the doctors and pastors had taken over the already too little social life I had and my sleep, every night, was plagued with a series of nightmares and guilt-laden dreams of that night in the royal cemetery. I always saw them in each nightmare and in each dream. Three hooded shadows, holding swords similar to ones I remembered seeing at the Manhyia Palace museum when my class did a trip there. They always took off their hooded dark cloaks to reveal their true selves. They were dressed as warriors form tooth to toe, with their huge talisman-strewn smocks and blackened faces. I would scream out to them, demanding the truth as to what exactly they had done to my brother and all they would say in sickening monotonic voices was, “We knew your motives. No one disturbs our royal ancestors.” I always woke up feeling like a log had been dumped on my heart so that it struggled to beat. Whatever Boakye had seen, he was the only one who knew and they were holding his tongue; whoever they were.

The stranger on whose laps I was seated looked like he was ready to cry. He let out breath he had been holding since I began my story and I almost couldn’t bear the brandy, garlic and some other foul thing-laced breath he directed at my face. How old is he, 105? I thought as I focused, for the first time that night, on my client. He had lost a good number of teeth. Then as if I hadn’t just told him the story of my life, he began to whisper something in French and tried without luck to locate my lips. He was obviously drunk beyond redemption.

Then, I felt like crying. Not for myself but for him and all the other men who had come to me just as he had. He had issues he needed to forget. They all did.  I had issues I needed to forget too; Issues that, in my case, kept piling up – guilt upon guilt. So I constantly needed a distraction. The injections did it for a while (kept my head miles away from my neck), the alcohol solved it briefly (turned my limbs liquid), and the sex was simply therapeutic for both parties – less for me, more for them.

 I needed to forget completely, that in my lifetime, I had almost looted a paramount chief’s grave. I needed to forget that in my lifetime, I had killed my brother’s smart brains, drained my family of all savings, and wiped them all off the surface of the earth; my brother first, in his sleep, and later my parents, out of grief.

I needed to forget that I was a complete failure, a need that gnawed away at my sanity, an ever present need... 
to forget. 

LOST

I sit here, 

Back bent with self-pity

And I watch 

As the days start

And end

And start

And end

Fearing it might end

And never start again

Countdown to midnight

And the clock will strike

I stand here

Still naked as I came

With nothing to show

That I lived

So I watch the sunrise

And set

And rise

And set

Dreading the day it sets

And rises no more.

Three counts to midnight

And the clock will strike

I crouch here

Knees weak

From trudging through mud

Through dark valleys

I listen to the cockcrow

And roost

And crow

And roost

My breath held, wondering

Will it ever crow again?

Now it's midnight

The clock strikes 

A monotonous chime

That rings and rings

And rings in my ears

So I pick myself up and set off

For nowhere...

Through Your Eyes

You interrupt my heavy thoughts

You invade my gory dreams

I am stone cold

You are hot

You speak with your eyes while I scream

You came to me

Canvas in hand

Different shades of colours

A handful of brushes

Each stroke held meaning

Each blot spoke volumes

You say my laughter cries

That in pain, my pleasure lies

You say I am deep

You say I am shallow

That I'm filled up with fears

That I'm empty, I'm hollow

The colours fill the sheet

As you weave an intricate pattern

That mirrors me

You say I hide

In plain sight

You whisper to me

What I fail to see

I turn back towards

Where you say is home

Walk up the stairs you crafted

And there it hangs 

The very element I had forgotten

A medley of memories

Reminding me of who I am

My portrait

Through your eyes.

Sunset Song

See the thin strands
Of sanity
Left

As I stand

Arms locked
Firmly

Over my tired breasts

Waving
An imaginary trophy

In my head

The madness heightens...

See the moth ball

Rolling down
The mountain

Picking up debris
That fell

And continue
To fall

From my life

The evidence grows...

See the rainbow
Turn its back on me

As I tirelessly struggle
To

Chain myself to a tree

Too stubborn

For freedom

In the skies,

Watch the colours bleed

See the straight road
Take a quiet turn

As my hardened hands
Carve

A path 

In the belly
Of a serpent

Overflowing
With venom

In the horizon,

The silent street sighs

My spent limbs

Lose all hope

My vacant eyes

See no home

My shrunken heart

Has the chills

And

My soul
Cries out

That age-old plea

Eli 

Eli

Lama
Sabachthani?

BEASTS

Once upon a time,

The rhythm 
Of our delicately merged hearts

Beating 
Skipping
Racing

When for the first time 
Our eyes met

Was the music 
We knew

The only tune 
We could dance to.

Once upon a time,

We were both 
Human.

But now 
These hands

Once innocent 
And fragile,

Are trembling.

This tired head 
Holds 
Too much evil

Too heavy 
For my heart 
To bear

So it fell out 
As I journeyed here, 
Heartless!

My tears 
Have frozen 
Midway 
Down my cheeks.

For the melody 
In your heart 
Has turned 
Discordant

To you, 
I have become 
A lowly servant

And my mind 
With deep loathing, 
Leaks.

You 
Have made pain 
A constant 
Companion

In this damned body 

The desire 
To spill blood

Your blood

Is like large 
Flesh-eating 
Termites

Crawling up 
My every opening

Feasting greedily 
On my insides

What is happening?

Must I stay 
Like this 
Forever

Dining 
With the very image 
Of my fears?

Must I, 
Remain flat-faced 
On the floor

Prostrate 
Before the beast 
You have now become?

No!

A year of happiness 

Was all I had.

Then you took 
As a mistress

That tall, 
Elegantly shaped

Intoxicating 
Green 
Bottle

Then 
You made me

Your whore

Your laundry basket

Your refuse bin.

You practiced 
Amateur boxing

On my belly

Swollen with a son

Our son

Three in a row

You boxed out 
Prematurely.

The last 
Cost me 
My womb

Vampire!

You sucked 
The human 
Out of me

And now

Now

We are both beasts.

So let us waltz 
Towards your grave 
My beast.

All through our steps 
Recalling

Those early nights 
You spent 
With me

You once laughed 
With me

But now 
We have drank poison 
Together

Bitter-sweet poison 
Together

So let us go

Let’s go dance 
On your shiny 
Marble 
Grave.

In and Out of my Dreams

I did not kill Uncle Fiifi because I hated him. Who could hate such a man? He had the body that I had thought only existed in myths, a smile that brought daylight into my almost always cluttered and fuzzy brain and a voice that sent me off on yet another daydream in which we were again, all alone on the mounds of divinely crafted earth somewhere in Aburi, overlooking the city in sleep, saying nothing to each other yet feeling everything. He was all I knew in and out of my dreams.

I never hated my father’s youngest brother. I loved him beyond what was expected from a 16-year old. I wanted to marry him the very next day if possible. I loved Uncle Fiifi, and that’s why I killed him.

He led me on. For almost five years I had been the only one for him. In High School, he had been the one who’d visit me every other weekend, take me out on a ride in town, and treat me special. I looked forward to what always came at the end of our day out - he’d take me home. I loved his flatscreen TV, and I loved to sit on his huge comfy sofa and watch high-school movies. I loved his pure white and silver kitchen with the island made from glass. I loved to push ice out of the icemaker and sip a little alcoholic wine on rocks with him. But most of all, I loved his queen-sized bed and all the pillows that were carefully arranged upon it. I loved to get lost in them as his hands made me feel grown-up and loved. He was the man in and out of my dreams.

My 18^th birthday was the best I’d ever had. He had taken me straight home that morning. First, he made me breakfast, my favorite - tombrown and egg sandwich. Then he got me to dance to all my favorite songs. He had taken note of all my favorites and that made me love him more. We danced till I was in stitches from too much movement and laughter. He taught me the two steps forward and two steps backwards high-life dance.

“I love you”

His eyes said it all as we swayed from side to side, to Kojo Antwi’s love songs.I never had to tell him I loved him too. He had always known I loved him more.

Uncle Fiifi had magic in his hands, is how I can describe it. The moment he touched me, and whispered in my ears, in that deep bedroom voice, magic happened along with fireworks. That day, when I turned 18, he taught me more than I had known before. More magic than I knew he had in store. And it more than quadrupled my love for that queen-sized bed. That day, magic swallowed up the very last of my innocence.

“Happy Birthday, my dearest” he had said to me, after it was over. As I got my clothes back on, I took in the blood that had drawn an interesting shape on the sheets and smiled. There was officially no room left for any other human, in and out of my dreams.

Then it started to fade. The fireworks became less colourful, the magic too forced. He was mostly absent-minded around me and I felt like a distraction or more of a disturbance to him. I noticed the warning signs before but I never paid much attention to them till he quenched it all, all my dreams. The signs had been there. It was a little folded up prayer brochure at first, then a Christian magazine, then an actual Bible. I had never asked him why I was seeing those foreign materials. I had never wanted to link it up to his sudden stiffness towards me. But he had allowed them into our world, those nosey Bible-clutching theives. They had slowly wrapped their invasive hands around his heart and without warning, snatched it out from my reach. He had gradually lost that look in his eyes, that smile that was only meant for me. His sinful voice spoke another language that splashed cold water all over my ever-heated being.

He had started to preach to me.

“What has been happening between us is wrong. I have wronged you, Baaba. I should have known better. Forgive me and understand that there is a better life outside sin. This change is good. Change with me, won’t you?”

For the first time ever, I saw him cry. He went down on all fours, sobbing like someone had died. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t Uncle Fiifi.

He had started talking about repentance, remorse, forgiveness, salvation. That wasn’t part of our deal. He was supposed to take me all the way to heaven, but not on those wings. That wasn’t part of the deal. There was no room left, remember? No room left for anything else in and out of my dreams.

What drove me? I’d say some amount of desperation. I loved him, I still do but he had been blinded. And a little dose of jealousy to top. They couldn’t have him without a fight. I couldn’t draw it out of him anymore, the magic I survived on, so I had begun to starve. The hunger played a major role. If I couldn’t have him anymore, then no one else could. That sounds selfish, I know but he was supposed to be my property and mine alone. His heart was mine and so I had to find a hiding place for my treasure before they hid it from me. It had to be done because I loved him more than he ever knew.

The day I took it, he had thought I was finally ready for the change he couldn’t stop talking about. I’m sure it’s because I got there dressed like one of those church girls. It was quick and easy, drugging him to deep sleep.

As he lay there on the couch in which magical things had happened, I cried. I watched as my tears formed a tiny pool on his bare chest, right on the spot where minutes later, the dagger I had taken with me drove through. It was quick. He shuddered violently for a moment then went limp.  I was shaking badly. I couldn’t control myself. My heart was merged with his and so as I cut him open, and with trembling hands clawed out his heart, my heart felt it all, the pain, then the joy. I had his heart in my hands. For love he drew my blood and for love I drew his. No one could take it from me anymore. The bloody gem was mine for safe-keeping.

Tomorrow is the day I die. I have been on death row for almost seven year now. I’ve become very famous worldwide and that adds nothing to my life, really. No one understands me. I did it for love and no one cares.

After my parents had found the decaying heart in an iron chest under my bed, everything else was like a scene in slow motion. The court proceedings, the media, the verdict are all shadowed memories. I can’t give all that any room. There is none, but for Uncle Fiifi, in and out of my dreams.

Tomorrow, I’d beg to be shot straight through my heart, for it will add no pain to what I already feel in there - the pain from loving too much and from expecting too much, the pain from giving my all to my dearest Uncle.

Tomorrow I die for love…In and out of my dreams. 

I am Home

When your days
Slip down that filthy drain

Do not go with them

Do not forget
To look back

And decode
The faces
Of those who stand

As a mirror
To your smiles
And tears.

When your heartbeat
Slows down

When your limbs
Turn jelly

When you brain
Journeys
To its last tether

And you see red
All around you

Do not shut your eyes
And wait to cross over

Do not forget
To turn back
And look

Do not refuse
To step out

In search
Of home

In your world of dreams

You are marooned

At the center
Of a shadow

You heed not the call 

Of a silent crier

Who's tears leak
Through your roof
At midnight

When your days
Are full of night

When your nights
Are further eclipsed

When your prayers
Echo back
Into your ears

And the smell
Of carrion
Invades
Your nostrils

Do not burn out
Your senses
And wait
To cross over

Do not forget
To turn back
And look

And my love,
Please..

Do not fail to see,

That
I am home.

ADAM & EVE

Let’s not go down this lane

For when we start this journey

And gaze upon each other’s nakedness

We are two innocent souls on the edge

Conflicting thoughts flooding our heads

Thoughts of eternity…fading away into night

As fabric gives way to flesh

Hands caress bodies…lips find lips

Our consciences scream out…our hearts skip

We know…the next step ends in doom

Yet heated passion leaves no room

For sane decisions

When we, first two

Become a corrupt one

The demons in hell beat hard on their drums

The darkness engulfs us as we move

Together…dancing to that evil rhythm

Our breaths unite in a death-chant

Suffocating the light in our hearts

Lucifer lifts his three-pronged fork

And hurls it into our merged bodies

As we shudder and scream out the cry of defeat

Then…

We reach the core

When we go down

This enticing lane…

We trade our innocence

We trade our light

Just so we can have a bite

Of that red…juicy…poisoned…ancient apple

Just a piece, my dear…

Just a piece, of that old, old lie.

THAT DAY

Time all wasted, time all gone
Where the 'excuse my word' did I go wrong?
Milk turned rancid, bread gone stale
Wine now tasting like some bad ale

I've gone on a crazy safari ride
All alone, spurning a guide
I've walked long beside this glistening lake
Stumbling on rocks, falling flat on my face

All these years...

I've been tip-toeing around a wretched heart
Too scared to go down on my knees and touch
To thrust that lighted lamp into my life
And put an end to this full-armored strife

All these years...

I've desperately looked back to any moment of peace
Of pure innocence wrapped in childhood memories
I've groped in the dark, looking for that doorway
That will finally lead me out into a brand new day.

That day...

The sun will come up and scare away the rain
The wind will sing aloud my new-found name
The moon and the stars will appear more bright
No need to look elsewhere for their source of light

That day...

I will wake up and find that I'm whole
Warmed up with love, never again to be cold
I will step gingerly out of my rose-colored bed
And sing blissful tunes off the top of my head

I will dance to the sounds of awesome nature
To the song of a bird, to the cries of each creature
I will walk up to the top of a dew-covered mountain
And shout, "I've found peace...blessed peace like a fountain"

Then I can breathe in the abundant love
Then, only then will I look up above
I'll let the warm rays fall down on me
And I'll marvel at how amazing freedom can be

Then, 
The very depths of my heart will whisper
That It is well...it is well with my soul.