Who Guards The Guards?
Your heart asks:
“Who can console the widow?
Who can tell the blind man to smile?
Who can appeal to the mother who just lost her child?
Who can console the man who lost his job?
The orphanage boy, who thinks life is cruel?
Who guards the guards?
Who says the grass is green when all I see is brown dry chunky grass?
How do you console a woman who just lost her husband to the cold hands of death and yet you are wrapped under a soft blanket of yours??
How can you tell the blind man it's such a beautiful day filled with sunshine when all he sees is a total blink of darkness?
What woe can befall a woman who lost her child, woe unto her sucking breast because the pain will be unbearable, how can you console her unless you have been through what she is going through… You wouldn’t understand the gasping hole of pain in her heart.
Who can console me?
Who can understand the rhyme beating of my heart? who can beat each tear that drops from my eye? who can beg my bleeding heart not to faint?
Walk my miles not even in my shoes and know what it feels like to grab a heart in pain.
Learn to cry a flood of tears, maybe I can listen to you.
Because the air is becoming thinner than it used to be.
Words are sweet when you are the one saying it!
Please dear heart don’t faint, don’t burn out, my head pleads.
Who guards the guards?”
I say:
Raise your head now,
Raise your head!
To remain bowed, O my soul, have thou chosen?
Raise your head!
Heed my plea, I pray thee.
Weep!
That, if you must, my little child,
But close not your eyes in tears.
Surrender not to suffering,
Only embrace the pain.
Why remain cast down, little one?
Does memory fail thee?
Remember!
Now than ever, you must remember.
His answer to her who asked,
‘Who can console the widow?
Who can tell the blind man to smile?
Who can appeal to the mother who just lost her child?
Who guards the guards?
He said “Your keeper guards the everlasting gate!”
Now see!
From behind the film of tears
Open your eyes and see.
As your pieces fall into place
As broken chords once again make sweet psalms
Your fingers, though worn, lace beautiful shoes
And your head, if only you will raise it, wear the victor’s crown.
Written by Bukola & Emmanuel.
