Psalms

Lovesick.



For a while, something was wrong, something just not right.
And the more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got.
I would spend time with Him and yet afterwards it would never feel like enough – the hours would feel like mere seconds and every passing minute without Him felt like an eternity bygone.
I was lovesick and my only antidote was to have all of Him and be with Him.

Of Ephraim. A Psalm.

My heart is heavy and pines for Him.

The iris of my heart tosses and tumbles out of focus

When I am away from the Lover and maker of my heart.

For with His tender touch and His hand of grace,

He quickly chips and chisels away at the infirmities of life that have collected on my heart like dust on this narrow road.

O how my heart skips a beat at the thought of the Lover.

O how He quenches my every thirst when I open up the curtains of my heart to His knocking.

O how my answer to His knocking is my emptying before His feet.

Taste and see how sweet the air of His robes of righteousness are

And how soft the garments of His bearings are to my cheeks

O how lovely His whisper is to my ear

And O how capturing His gaze into my gaze of Him is.

I have left all the burdens of my shoulders before Him

And He has swatted away and reduced them all to peace.

So all that remains is

His love that first loved me

And now my love for Him who loved me first.

I was and am lovesick.

E.K

“Sustain me with cakes of raisins,
Refresh me with apples,
For I am lovesick.”

Song of Solomon 2:5



How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the things of this world.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (HAMLET)

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Ephraim Kihondo

PSALM: STONE WALL
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Romantic Poetry

Gone. (Pt. 2)

Of Ephraim.

“So they both ran together, and the other disciple outran Peter and came to the tomb first.”
John 20:4″

Speeding ahead.
Heaving.
Huffing and puffing.
Gasping for air,
Blood on my taste buds.
Heart racing ahead of my legs.
Thighs tiring but my thoughts
Refusing to falter or stall for a second.
Doubting yet believing.
Seeing yet not yet seen.

I must find out.
I must know for myself,
I must see for myself.
Dubiety trips my feet
But the glimmer of hope
Gets me back and running.
I must find out.
Upon arrival,
I see
The handkerchief that was around His head
And the linen cloths that clothed Him
Folded to perfection.
The tidily prepared exit.
My Lover is gone.
The tomb is empty.
Maybe
He is alive…

E.K


“Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; and he saw the linen cloths lying there, and the handkerchief that had been around His head, not lying with the linen cloths, but folded together in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who came to the tomb first, went in also; and he saw and believed.”
John 20:6-8

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