Grace Was Here

 

 

He had been a man of fame; the man called Wilson,

But now he felt useless like a phone with no network.

Twas his second decade running in the city prison,

Full blooded Nigerian, but born and bred in New York

 

Wilson was born with the proverbial silver spoon,

He'd never tasted sorrow, nor known any abjection,

But he'd suffered the needy and misused the boon,

Now he paid the price with utmost dejection.

 

His wife had died, autopsy revealed she was poisoned,

And police investigation stated he was the culprit.

In jail, he'd cry all day, that his countenance got crimsoned,

For he knew nothing of this crime that turned him a lifetime convict.

 

Agnostic all his life, he never believed in the Almighty,

But now he vividly understood the reason for the lesson;

There is truly a cosmocrat: a Supreme Deity,

And He'd put him behind bars, to meet Him in person.

 

And then it happened, a very strange miracle;

Twenty years into detention, his case was revisited,

The jailer had ordered them to remove his shackles,

Because the judge declared him 'discharged and acquitted!'

 

So before he left, he requested for a piece of chalk,

And on the prison wall he wrote bold and clear;

I have beheld him not, but have seen His handwork,

And though i deserved it not, but Grace was here!

 

Temi