They only come to come.
To empty their vessels of troubles.
Some a twin, some whole.
5,6,7 a day, they come.
Business boom for me is my life’s doom.
Me, a tank of gloom.
I bear their burdens.
Their pleasure is my pain.
I bear their burdens,
Nameless and sometimes faceless dudes.
I bear their burdens.
Some thank me at the deposit of their burden.
In their gratitude is relief.
Temporary relief from the world’s troubles.
They return in a fortnight for another deposit.
Is the world so trouble-filled?
They come, they go.
I never seem to change.
I do not belong to their world — or so it seems.
I am their saviour,
But only at dusk.
They criticise me at dawn.
All of them,
As if it is spirits that come at dusk.
They will not accept me as I am.
So I need a saviour,
In whom I can empty my vessel.
A saviour who will accept me as I am.
A temporary saviour have I been to my Nicodemus visitors.
Now a permanent saviour I seek,
And I will bring the associates of Nicodemus to the saviour at dawn.
When will my saviour take me as I am?
Akinsiwaju also writes at www.akinteachesenglish.com