In Commemoration of the International Day of The Girl a friend of ours is giving her book for free download for just a day!
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Just follow this link
Enjoy your day
Many blessings!
I have really wise friends
I have really smart friends
And then I have these other friends. These ones I don’t know how to classify them.
For when you hear their thought process, you will wonder if this part of the body called a brain is vestigial in some animals.
When they utter words, you automatically want an occupation with hammers for every thing they say make you want to break their head.
But then I got to thinking;
6 years,
10 years;
200 years from now and these same ‘not so senseless’, poor in making decisions, and utterly tiring friends of mine would be known as ‘the ancestors’
A status men will begin to idolize.
I see us use a whole lot of our mind’s compartment to believe things that were told to us by people who couldn’t figure out simple things, I mean, some of the very learned of them actually argued that the earth was flat, like a table.
Hollup!
I am not even talking about the unlearned ones from your villages that birthed those you now call grandpa. Just imagine it.
They told you to pour drinks on the floor for the ancestors and you agree, well it’s *Omenala, so it can’t be broken.
They said a woman should be shorn when her husband dies and well, who are we to not obey the voices of ignorance passed down to us?
We carry knowledge like tentacles on a snail’s head but still slip back into the cave of ignorance we use to shell whatever good we can make of life, just because we have been told to ‘stand on the wisdom of the elders’,
Now guess who said that? ‘THE ELDERS’
I feel this is rigged.
Then our faith, love, strength, and even humanity is subject to a broken past called tradition,
Something that might have been suggested by a ‘not so smart’ old man who was only opportune to live before us.
So I take a stand today.
I will relate with the rules of the ancestors like they were still alive now
I will weigh their wisdom based on how wise it is, NOW!
I will not waste my time in their myth, only to satisfy their dead bones long gone with the sands of time.
I will make decisions now and then advice younger generations to learn from my words, but before I go from this earth;
I will let them know I wasn’t the wisest
I wasn’t the smartest
I was as man as man can be
And most of all;
As they grow, and find better ways to do what I said couldn’t be done,
They shouldn’t be afraid to discard my letters and fly the plane of their imaginations to outer space and back.
For no matter how sacred we decide to treat the scrolls of heroes past,
And bend always to their judgments on matters, using them as the ultimate yardstick to measure life.
I dare say that many of them were also as confused as we are at some points of important decisions,
And to crown it all, some chose wrongly.
Which only goes to say that we with them were all normal humans.
And if I won’t let another man dictate what I do and decide I run my life, I’m including the great ancestors too.
*Omenala is the Igbo(Nigerian Language) word that means tradition
It was clear that I wasn’t full of anything
But everyone could bet that I was full of myself.
You would think I would weigh a thousand tons when the contents of me were turned into a bag and placed on a weight but I am that feather
Blown
By every wind of doctrine.
See, I had seen suits;
Seasons 1 to 5, and 6, and 7,
Yet
Nothing in the whole seasons of life could suit to cover the empty shell I hid in the well pressed excuse of the suit I wore. ME.
The real me;
Who knew nothing. Just occasional passages from the bible I could jump on, and like a frog; hip-hop on from time to time just to prove that I haven’t been listening to the ‘devil’s music’ and so I dress to kill, looking ‘smart’ on Sundays, my proof that I was scent enough. And I was worthy enough to lift up holy hands with. The cufflinks of doubts connecting my wrist to my chest.
I was unworthy! And I knew it!
I knew it, because whenever I saw people dig in the corners of new buildings around my house I saw something I would never be; WELL.
I felt alone in the world
I knew what I had wasn’t enough
I even told friends I needed space for it felt more natural to the man I was
We all did church, but when I checked how far I had come with what I called the gospel,
I knew it was useless
You are saved by him,
But you are condemned,
Unless you save yourself.
But that was before his light came
The light came
Delight came when his light came
It tasted sweet but I wept;
oxymoron like sugarcane
I got to know how good I was
I got to know who he was
And he told me who I was;
Till then I had always felt I knew so much
But the fool in me was revealed when the wise in him chose a foolish way to change the full in me.
I emptied myself and took him in
And till now,
I’m still intoxicated by the love he gave.
I can now brag about being full
And I don’t need to be full of myself to do it.
It was the first time I learnt, that the first ‘useless’ letter of him, could arrest the empty space in me and make me ‘W’hole.
This is a story about a girl in her twenties and a guy in his twenties; late.
They went
On a date when every other person walked into the mall hands in hands and shoulders;
That’s today.
Their fates already sealed by the late mr Kori and little Miss Kate.
So I know, and you know that he would be leaving this evening with a no,
And she would have dodged another bullet of a man sent to rent what’s left of the tattered clothing of her shadowed past,
Park into her heart with no rent.
Brothers and sisters, you relate with this right?
How often do we already decide what he intends, from the last person we met who was from the same tribe?
Has the same look, with a similar beard, same complexion, from the same country;
How we now act like everyone with the same ‘dark’ name plays the same bad game has left me wondering;
If this field will ever be fair.
I mean, long before I came along your path someone, somewhere already did my name a smear, so all I do with whatever I do, or do not, would be to remind you of him, how awful?
And when you can’t seem to box me you still find a box to box me, your low blow finds a way to make ‘all men, all women, the same’
Dear dearie;
Just because we all carry the Y chromosome doesn’t make us the same with your EX, the same way your X doesn’t make you miss Kate,
Our meeting was not a mistake.
I am not Mr. Kori.
I wouldn’t choose quick seconds over the trust you give;
I wouldn’t love you and leave;
Or maybe I would, but please
Let me not pay for what he did.
And don’t let him pay for what I did,
And if you can do this for me, I promise to hold up my own end of this bargain, and not think you only came for the money,
not let you pay for all she did.
No I’m not saying ‘snap out of it’, I know you still hurt, you are human so you should feel;
but let’s consciously drink from these bars tendered to heal;
And in a short while from now,
A little walk from this bar; we would have drunk to fill.
For only then would we walk into the mall, hands in hand,
And maybe, I would be fortunate enough to get a ‘Yes’ by the end of the night, this time from the real you, on this date, the day we finally let go.
Let’s face it,
Nobody is really real with all the weight;
So we can lose the hate, and plan to love again, today.
Hey there, my name is Favour Omeje and I write.
I have known the joys of writing especially wielding my pen to summon words together to tell the love story of ‘the Word’=Christ.
Writing has been to me like lending readers shoes to walk back and forth time to experience what good things, I have experienced in Christ; simply put, writing has become like a kiss and tell story.
Soon enough, I got signed up to the Christ A Poet team where I was given a loud voice to express my Christian experience. It was there that I took a dip in excellence and team spirit. Christ A Poet Team provided different platforms for people like me who love to read and write to gain writing prowess while telling the Lord’s story in diverse translations. One of such platforms is the Freestyle Friday.
Freestyle Friday is boundless needless to say.
This is how we do it:
We gather virtually on our social media platforms where a theme is dished out; then we all do justice to it using the different forms of literature available to man.
This time, we want you to share in the experience that we have enjoyed exclusively as team mates for years and you don’t have to be committed to us to enjoy this.
Just follow the link and request entry!
Do you love to read?
What about write?
Then you don’t want to miss this fun. You can take my word for it!
Favour Omeje
For: The Christ A Poet Team
Christ a poet 