Healer

Àyòká ran into her Father's compound
She had heard the wailings of Egbére and the cries of Kowe
Sànpònná had struck, a plague that ravaged the living and their dead
A curse to this world, doom to the other world
But how late Àyòkà was
For Bàbá, her trust was already gone.

Peter strode with his head bowed
A brave response to life's treacherous jabs
The leaves on Life's tree are turning brown
The plague, everyone's cunning master is taking lives
Peter had lost his patients and his dreams
As the world and his world crumbled before COVID-19.

Dayò's thoughts ran faster than the car he drove
Thoughts of ìyàwó, àwon omo and the debts burrowed into his soul
Life no longer held any meaning to him
He now sees reality as a fearsome dream
Then COVID-19, the villain locked him in his home
And the Hunger, its sidekick knocked out all his remnant hope.

All hope is really lost to us
We have been grasped in the giant hands of this curse
Its unseeing glares have pinned us down
And we have lost our lives fighting hard
Kowe's cries have turned into piercing shrieks
For in a cruel irony, she has also lost her growing seeds.

But is all hope truly lost?
We choose to hold light in the thriving dark
We may have fought but we haven't lost
For our foe is but a worm to our creator
We can see Him holding our hands in the dark
We can trust Him to lead us through the night.

We can raise our voices in unity
And lay hold on his promise of peace
Our Jesus, our healer, our peace
We choose to see you restoring in COVID-19
For if our night thrives and our dawn flickers
Then with clasped hands and deafening voices, we will whisper

To you Saviour, for you are our healer.




- Omotolola Korede.