I owed it to myself

I owed it to myself to tell you i loved  you
to punch fear and all it’s doubts away
to give anxiety and worry a haemorrhage in the brain
when it wouldn’t let my mind rest

I owed it to myself to love you fully and completely
because loving you was what I needed to gain my sanity
I felt at home and not at home
at home in your arms but pressing forward toward our final destination

I owed it to myself to open my heart bare before it turned sour
filled with regrets and pain of what wasn’t said
and if care was not taken It wouldn’t be said
so I decided to carelessly surrender to the truth of my heart

I owed it to myself to Love you when you did not deserve it
to be kind to you when you did not want to be towards me
to show you all the love I had for you if that minute came
the minute I thought would be perfect to display and surrender it

I owed it to myself not to let the anticipation for your reaction die
your reaction I thought out in my head
so I held on to it irrespective of the reality of your present actions
I was happy with all my mind imagined and thought

I owe it to you to pay myself all the debt
every penny and every pound of love to you
To prevent hate and resentment from gaining root and growing
Not thinking of what could have been but hoping toward what would be

I owe it to you to make you see my words are important to me
and I meant and mean all that was said ;physically, emotionally and spiritually
from my heart to yours, and my lips to your ears
I hope I pay you and I everything and be debt free at last
but still loving you like I ought to and you ought to be loved


Time and Sorrow

“Time heals all wounds”, they say
but every passing day I gain fresh memories
as though the scars left by your departure were being pecked upon
reopening wounds and leaving my heart bleeding again
This time, our good friend, Dr. time, failed to heal my hurt
Instead it reminds me of the memories we once shared
and I would never get to share with you again:
So much for being a qualified doctor

It was 2.49pm I last received your call,
a Saturday afternoon we last spoke
It was a sunny one
as I remember not having on the mocha coloured sweater you got me
All seemed bright and fair:
The flowers blossomed and the birds chirped
It was the beginning of spring and the daffodils were out
I wished this spring would have been as lovely as the rest
but its loveliness was lost when you breath your last
So with every spring comes a reminder of the pain,
and at 2.49pm the sound of the phone replays in my head.

There is a time to mourn and that time has been everyday since you left
in the summer where all things bloom
and where the smiles on people faces are brighter than ever
I am embraced with the reminder of your absence
because last summer you gave me gardenia, and each time
I can smell them as if it were yesterday you gave me

It was 1.00pm during the fall your intermittent took place:
When the leaves had lost it colours
and the trees were ready to shed their leaves
It was a well selected time
since you were being laid to rest
and the leaves from the trees beautified your burial place.
I hand picked special fall flowers;
the same kind you got for me on our first date in the fall
A mixture of dahlia and camellia

Now in the cold winter nights
I wished my mind be frozen so I do not remember you.
I am still hurting much
It was 11.59pm, a minute to christmas;
the day you told me you loved me,
and gave me a heart shaped icicle you made with the snow
I remember we stood by the luculia
beautiful pink flower in your parents garden
You picked one from its stalk
and beautified my hair with it.

It has been 365 days, 22hours, 10minutes, 22 seconds and counting
Still It feels like yesterday
the clocks had no tocks but only ticks,
as time seemed to stand still when I was told the news
I felt the colours in the sky drain
and suddenly I felt as though I was in all seasons
My heart was in chaos;
we had seasons of beautiful memories with sparkles of little misunderstanding
We had 24hours to ourselves and we both shared
Now those 24hours are for me alone and with 12hours I use to relieve the times we shared by myself
I end up walking through emptiness,
with tear filled eyes

with each season that passes by I remember you
As the clock ticks and gradually regain its tock
I think of each minute we had
Time heal wounds but still I’m hurting
Our shared memories get fresh with each season and time that goes by
Hopefully I would not have to wait another year
For time to finally stich up the hole you left in my heart


Originally written in september 2015

This shall soon pass

Just as the days pass,
and the times and seasons give way ,
this shall soon pass
your pain , your hurt and soon your happiness would be back
not because what caused you pain returned  and it made things better
or may be it did return but for how long?

Instead  your happiness returned because you found renewed hope,
strength to smile and say,
“all things are temporary even the pain ”
God is in control
wait patiently on the Lord
my soul, this shall soon pass


Years of Ink

The scent of the paper grew better with time
The synergy during the first kiss of the pen with the paper
and the firm grip of the writer’s hand with the pen
it was a warm embrace
the chemistry of the three was felt

But as the heart of the writer connected with his mind
more energy was released to the paper
it was transformed from one form to another
no energy was destroyed or created
as he wrote each line

He wrote this in the 90s
In the cool of the night,
by the table lamp,
the chirp of the crickets, and
the hoot of the Owl
He wrote it to his wife while camping close to the battle field

Now it’s 2015 ,
she decides to search through the pink chest
where she stored letters from her beloved
All rolled up and nicely tied
with the seal all broken from years back

Now he is no more,
she wants to to feel him close
as she does every anniversary
she wants the words he wrote to jump out and become a reality
to embrace her and say, It’s ok

As she read through the letter
she could feel the energy from her dearest
how he felt to be away from her
the fear, the hope, the anxiety – mixed emotions
It was almost as though she was transported to the 90s
To the war front

The scent of the paper
had that old but authentic scent
It was his love in letters

written with the gold of writers
stored by his beloved
now she shares it with their grand daughters
Though absent , no memory was lost

“This is love!”, the girls exclaimed,
to be in the thought of your beloved at the battle field
and for your beloved to be in your heart years later when he is no more
Cherishing every year, words written over a decade ago

This is love nana !!

Scars Speak

The scars on my face
remind me I am no more a child
It tells me you went through puberty
but a few tell me you should have cut down on your fatty food

The scar in the middle of my chest
reminds me of how playful I was, and still am
however, It reminds me how carefree I was
How being a girl never stopped me from taking physical risks
It tells me I was not afraid to climb Air Conditioner protectors
But would scream like a girl once the scar is created
I look down between my chest over 10 years later,
It still seats there

The scar on my bum tells me I am always on the move,
Even in my sleep,
as a 6 year old
That my imaginations run wide
I’m a dreamer
to the extent of thinking a lantern to be the toilet seat
It  definitely reminds me that my bum is sensitive

The scar on my elbow tells me of how much I trust family
How well I trust my junior brother
How silly I am to think a 4 year old could lift a 10 year old
It tells me pain may not be felt when  glass tears ones skin
bleeding in ignorance doesn’t hurt but the knowledge of the
wound makes one sore
It tells me healing may hurt

The scar on my right leg
left after a boil
tells me wounds may heal
but not enough to be forgotten
that scars would be left if you do not let the hurt be

The scar on my hand
tells me to be careful with hot things
to concentrate
and pay attention to the work at hand

All my scars tell me I’ve lived
It tells me I’ve endured
That I have a story
It tells me that I’m mortal
We are finely moulded clay,
That this flesh breaks
We are like vapour

The scars within
Which no eye can see
left by losing loved ones or
gaining an award or recognition
being loved or forsaken
Tell me, I’m more than skin
That the times I hurt are my scars
The times I laugh are my pleasant scars

In it’s totality , all the scars tell me
I bleed both within and without
that all would pass and soon be  a memory
but soon the memory would be no more

They tell me I can be broken
yet still live as though nothing happened
they remind me i conquered
both physically and emotionally

I am full of scars
Scars that speaks

High school SweetHeart

We were young and in love
ok, may be in like
we could not get over the fact that we liked each other
hormones running wild and
our curious little hearts were feeling merry
our eyes danced at the sight of each other

The first stanza , i know
it’s all in my imagination
but i’d share our love story
just as it really is

We were like cat and dogs
i would ignore you at the sight of you
and even give you a mean stare
when i noticed your eye laid on me from afar;
during our after prep prayers in the dinning hall
or the time i sat in the choir
before the service began

When you were “struck” when i danced at a friend’s party
I had just joined high school
and accompanied my sister to her friend’s party
It was during the holidays
then we returned to school
and i heard someone had feeling for me

Although you were in a higher class
My senior?!
I was fierce and mean
the idea of being liked was irritating
i did not like you that much

Of course i was partly flattered
and it was beautiful when your sister spoke to me
when i told my friends about you
when i was called your name
also being spoken to about you by your classmates
it was a lukewarm feeling
but sometimes hot and sometimes cold

Now You’re my honeybunch, sugar plum
You’re my sweetie pie
You’re my cuppycake, gumdrop
Snoogums, boogums, you’re
The apple of my eye
Sorry i snatched those word out from a school sing along
but it best describes our hearts
and minds at that age

I have the letters you wrote to me
the messages you sent through your classmates
though not written,
are somewhere in my memory
a few imprinted in my heart

Few years forward,
to my kids :
let me tell you a story
about being his high school sweet heart

Dear Friend, Say it as it is

Dear Friend,
Don’t tell me what i want to hear but tell me what i need to hear
Don’t tell me you love me  yet you are all chicken to tell me what needs to be done,what i need to know and  what would potentially save my soul
I may get angry or irritated when you tell me the truth but at least it’s the truth

Don’t give me meat substitute and call it meat because you think i’d be mad at you (you know i like meat)
I would probably be mad but not as mad as i’d be to find out you lied
Don’t see me treating honest gentle men in a wrong manner
and laugh with me when you know it’s wrong
Don’t congratulate me when i do something contrary to what is expected by God just to make me feel good
Please call me out

I may try to deceive myself that all is well
but a voice other than mine telling me what i need to hear would slap senses back into me
Faithful are the wounds of a friend as stated in proverbs 27 vs 6
so please wound me with your words or if it be physical wound, do so
but don’t kiss me with lies as an enemy ought to,
or embrace me with toxic niceness
please care for my soul

Tell me i’m wrong for being sexually immoral;
Giving up myself  to a guy who is not my husband
Tell me i’m wrong for not standing up for what is right,
for not being straight forward with my feelings
Tell me i’m wrong for dressing in a seductive manner
Tell me! so i may run back to God in repentance

Cry with me , laugh with me, dance with me , joke with me but  PLEASE
Dear friend, say it as it is.