Gifted Hands

As if Im Ben Carson

My hands are bartered with mud
I’m molding truth in form of clay pot
Because the water
To plaster my truth’s
Here enough in my rhymes
If you care to know

My hands tilling the soil with hoe
For truth be planted for liars be fed
Hundreds of numbers of barns of truth
In reserve
Preserved
For that is what matters

My hands are firm for hammer
Beating the truth into war tools
Melted re-melted
Packing the aches
Blowing the bilow
Maybe bow and arrow
Or two edged sword

My hands are blessed by God
To write these words of truth to multitudes
Garnished in stanza of zuegma Personified
To flea the lies

For ibi a ba wi si ko laa ku si
(We can’t die
At the spot we speak the truth)
That’s why we must vow
To speak the truth
All the days of our life.

Samuel C. Enunwa aka samueldpoetry
(the Leo with wings flying)

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