Change



I like people and how they change, It reminds me of home. Of how one person won’t make it to Christmas next year, and forever. How this might be the last time I’ll tell aunty Chinenye that she’s my favorite. That her hair is beautiful and her smile is radiant. That being the only person in the family with dimples must mean that she was special. That I’ll come for holidays when she got married. That I love her. Before I run away with the plate of corn and _úbé_ she roasted for me to show my mummy.



New people remind me of old people. Of the promises of forever that lasted till worth became what my worth was never. “See finish” is myopic. It assumes that who I met today is better than someone I’ve known for many years. Forgive me for being old fashioned but I believe that the years matter. If our bubble lasts a year, then we have beaten time and seasons that I’ll cherish again and again. Because while people change, you’ve changed and I’ve changed, but somehow we haven’t changed enough to no longer feel the other is less their worth. I have a habit of remembrance. Of beginnings.



I like taking strolls. A slow walk down memory lanes. I like seeing how first hello and hi morphed into not being able to do without. I like change. It has never scared me. That’s why I am never afraid of death. How people leave without a word’s notice. How they change. From being there to being mute. How someone who would kill if you shed a tear will lie there and sleep through your million wails. Tears changes people. Maybe the saline fluid washes a part of ourselves with it when it falls. When we clean it, we don’t just clean it. We erase something too. A trust, a love, a care, a joy, a part of us.



People change but I don’t blame them. I’ve heard people say the stories of their journeys. It’s why I want to make movies. So many untold stories. We judge too hastily for people with the ability to cry so much. And we hold grudges for people that fall short so much. I never got to visit aunty Chinenye because she never got married. Mummy will never see my wife, daddy too, with his funny mustache and remarks. Aunty Faustina will not make good on her threat to tell the woman that I’m stubborn on my wedding day. They all changed. Just like people do. They fell like flowers plucked from life’s petal, to wither on dusty earth. So go ahead dear, change all you want, I’m used to it.


Uc Truth
(C) 2022

Prototype

So much to say but it all seems shallow
What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow
Now I say I’m made when I make it to a heart
Lord knows I am no longer at the start

But I live life like I’m a responsible baby
And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi
Only time I cry is when I make a battle cry
And when I crack after conquering the pressure

So much to type
But I’m not the type
Seen beyond the hype
I’m a prototype

“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…”
But my brothers still prefer to attack the kraken
I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day
So do research when you’re fixing to advise me
Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain
Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained

But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated
And the arm of the mighty get deleted

I put my trust in God, not environment or state
I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.

Niel Quchi
© 2020

Blister Ring

So much to say but it all seems shallow
What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow
Now I say I made when I make it to a heart
Lord knows I am no longer at the start

But I live life like I’m a responsible baby
And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi
The only time I cry is when I make a battle cry
And when I crack after conquering the pressure

So much to type
But I’m not the type
Seen beyond the hype
I’m a prototype

“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…”
But my brothers still prefer to attack the Kraken
I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day
So do research when your fixing to advice me
Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain
Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained

But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated
And the arm of the mighty get deleted
I put my trust in God, not environment or state
I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.

The Niel
© 2020

A chip of ice- for mum

Your teardrops would battle fiercely
From the corners of your eyes
They would force their way through
The rigid, unyielding valley of your eyelids
And when they fell
They would stab your cheeks, twist your nose
And sting the recesses of your jaw

Yet when they fell,
They were like the sudden rain that mocked the Sahara
Like the mango tree growing in the Arctic
They were a wonder, and so were you.
For you loved me
Like icy cold, angry waters hammering on rocks
Falling

From unbelievable heights, through the distance between us
Screaming, raging and filled with the frustration
That your decades had fed you
As you crisscrossed naked open seas, flogged by the sun
And through lush green forests
With dwindling mud tracks and filthy streams
Falling

Defying boulders and meanders that had beaten you into thin ice
And kept you on your tiptoes with your back bent
Trying to meet my needs
Through cold, dark nights when you slept
With the biting in your belly
With the uncertainty of worry
Yet you flowed, silent and rapid
Falling,

Through the secrets you swallowed as you went by
And the hurts which never made you cry
And the sorrows you fought to bring forth life
With a charming smile on your face.
You shamed the hardness
That shaped your life
And you crashed against my rocky heart
With the weight of ages of ice
You flogged me, you tore me, you tested me
In my blindness, you were my foe
But I have received the warmth sparked
By the slap of your coldness
And I have melted in love
Your love is hidden in my heart of ice

Ndubuisi Chioma J
© 2019

Teen-Page

This book, not like conventional books Begins on PAGE 13
Tales of time to decide what life would mean
These pages chronicle more than stages
They tell of a journey every human must take

PAGE 14 goes on nicely
Realities are made and fantasies are destroyed
Some stories told in childhood seem not true and helpful for the journey ahead

Listening and perception engages the mind
Principles are laid and habits gained
Responsibilities birth abilities never thought of
What beauty inked on PAGE 15

PAGE 16, just like any other page, is a transition, a shift
Moods swing to and fro
And the rhythm of perfection is heard along

When difficulty is served
The right tool (character) is used to deal with 17
As the drums of fear are beaten
Those who can oppose it do
Those who can’t sit back

Teenage years is like a learning platform
Although not Udemy, it teaches a lot
Prepares you for adulthood and maturity
Passing or failing will not make you a certified teen
But reading each page would
No one ever said PAGE 18 is the peak in life
Other pages do exist but it’s only a beginning of a new book

© 2019
@adethatwrites