My tongue is a pen
My pen is in my writing kit
I lift it to You, Lord
Refill it with life
Infuse it with fresh oil flowing from the olive trees
Let it flow, flow, flow afresh
Renew
Restore
Let it scribble life on a parched land, the souls of men
And wet the dry places, the dark, hidden areas within the mind
Let every stroke awaken weary hearts.
My pen is between my fingers.
Ready to mark the city.
Enobong O’wunmi. February 2026.
