We win sometimes

sometimes, without a doubt, I win
against the odds of needs and wants
beyond the reach of my fragile prayers
I fall from a desire to an option
I carry nothing except a tin of hope
like Abraham’s faith in Sarah’s womb
underneath this attempt to wear a shield
is a collection of past delinquencies
inside me lies the fear of the future
around this dusk is gratitude for the lamp

Tomide Abdul