Poems by A.T. Alabi

It's sometimes hard to see
How close a virtue and vice can be,
Yet the borderline of the two
Should we respect in all we do.

Being frank without a little tact
Can turn to rudeness after the fact.
Being brave may be a step away
From foolhardiness any given day.

When suspicion becomes routine
Paranoia is sure to settle in.
And when making humility a show
Pride readily begins to grow.

Where gentleness lacks a bit of nerve
Weakness is what others observe.
And where self-confidence is found
Arrogance often lurks around.

It's a borderline hard to tread
And plunges tend to lie ahead,
But it's by heeding moderation's call
That we can safely avoid a fall.

I'd be happy, only if...
Our often deceptive belief -

If I were a superstar,
Or rode a brand new car;

If I had a better house,
Or a more understanding spouse;

If I flew a private jet,
Or could get my dream pet;

If I had a lovelier face,
Or lived in a riveting place;

If I had a better friend,
Or could get more to spend...

Young or old or rich or poor,
Who doesn't want one thing more?

Joy thrives in no place apart,
From the kind and grateful heart.

Hold my hand, dear Lord,
As I daily follow you.
This journey before me,
You alone can see me through.

The distractions emerging
Around, almost every day...
They're subtle and compelling,
I'm sometimes prone to stray.

There's much I don't know,
And the road ahead seems long.
All my hope is in you;
I confess I'm not strong.

I'll need your gentle tug,
When my focus seems to shift.
Grant me your healing word
When I need a happy lift.

Hold my hand, lead me, Lord
In that path straight and true.
Help me to fix my eyes
Always and only on you.

Amen

Ever gotten there?
To that place where
You have nothing to prove
and can just be.
Nothing to hide
and all can see.
Nothing to lose
and so you can breathe.
Right in that place where
you know you're free.

I can't prevent attitudes
from knocking upon my door,
but I decide which to let in
and which ones to ignore.
Can't halt the passing thoughts
that cross over my lane,
but I decide which to resist
and which to entertain.
Though situations come or intrude,
unbidden into my day,
it's still my house and race to run,
I will always have a say.

Striving daily for progress,
Learning a paradox too --
That it's not always forward movement;
Sometimes, the reverse will do.

That progress may take the form
Of slowing down the pace.
It's the admittance of a wrong turn,
Of having steps to retrace.

It's in pausing to find my bearing,
At the risk of seeming slack.
It's in opting against some shortcut,
For a rather less-travelled track.

It's not always how far and away,
I am at a given instance.
It's a lot more about the direction
Than it is the covered distance.

Each day is a chance for progress.
Lord, I want the forward kind.
Help me, too, to know where to let go,
And what to leave behind.

There are times to hurry.
Some things in life call for speed.
But more than ever, I'm learning
That pace is really what I need.

Sometimes I'll ask myself,
What the haste is all about?
When strength is easier maintained
Than regained after burnout.

There certainly will always be
That job that needs to get done.
New challenges will always rise,
So will the battles to be won.

It's healthier to make a plan,
To give to God each new day.
To appreciate the gift of life,
And spend some time to pray.

To rise and stride into the day,
With a goal clearly defined.
And give my best to whatever role
It is that I've been assigned.

To make the space to savour
The joy of a task complete
Before hopping on the next challenge,
To take the time to breathe.

To fit in little things that matter
Than how fast I'd move each day.
Like the lifted mind or grateful heart
I would leave along the way.

To break lofty intents into bits,
And take them one at a time.
To simply take each day as it comes,
And steadily enjoy the climb.

I desire, dear Lord,
To cultivate the habit,
Of keeping in touch with You,
Minute by minute.

Not reserving prayer
For the more crucial things,
While leaving it out
Of the seeming routines.

To make a point
Of approaching the Throne,
Over daily concerns
Before fetching the phone.

To care to say grace,
Before having a bite,
Or taking a walk in the park,
Or picking a pen to write.

Help me Lord to see
You are right by my side,
A true friend willing to listen,
A Father ready to guide.

I don't mind accolades
freely passed on my way,
I'll take encouragement
gladly, any given day.
I don't shift responsibilities
that land upon my plate,
and I'm fine with criticism
when it's laid out straight.
An offer of assistance
I'm not the type to dis,
will swallow the hard truth
despite how bitter it is.
But if it's pity you're selling,
you've got the wrong guy.
It's a luxury I can't afford,
the one thing I won't buy.

A sleek and smart device,
Is taking everything out.
Little things and big things,
It's looking more like a rout.

It's taking out the camera,
The wristwatch, the clock.
Walkmans and desk calendars,
Didn't have a better luck.

It's taken out the road map.
It's taking out the flashlight.
Good ridance to the land line,
It couldn't put up a fight.

It's wiping out newspapers,
The DVDs and Cassettes.
It's taking out the textbooks,
And it is not finished yet.

How about relationships,
Real interactions for a start?
Friendships and even marriages,
Are being taken apart.

It is taking out our eyes,
When we're texting on a trot.
It's killing our cervical spine,
When we're rooted to a spot

And it'll take more than that,
If we're slow to take control.
The smartphone comes in handy,
But can take over a soul.