The Lord Needs Me

For a number of years I lost count of, she had to stay put, not by choice but circumstances. Her beautiful feet meant to grace the soil of the Earth only made a mark in his.

‎For a number of years close to infinite, her body grew, but lean, thin, though she ate, on demand his bread: stolen, stony, stale. Oh! He fed her and she ate and we saw it.

‎For a number of years we stopped counting, her beauty faded not; products in different cans from different brands he could afford, so she glowed brighter than the morning sun.

‎For a number of years we lost track of, the daughter, at night, was a nightmare we chose to wake up from, to anoint our doorsteps with oil and bathe our kids with tongues.

‎For a number of hours we cared not to count, two men not from our land; two men foreign to our soil, undid her knot. The first in years, her limbs trembled in freedom.

‎For a number of minutes we dared not count, the two men, strangers on our soil; their physique our body questioned, their feets our eye questioned, their hands our mouth questioned.

‎For a number of seconds we barely could count, the daughter at night, in daylight learnt a syllable, "The Lord needs me!" and she echoed as an eulogy, sang as a song.

‎#Matthew21:2-3