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

THE YEAR


It started from January
Without a salary
We ate from hand to mouth
Our Landlord sent us out

We spent a lot during Christmas
Now I can’t buy ordinary slippers
My children had to go to school
So I had to sell my working tool

Next month, I lost my job
I was attacked by a mob
I lost my only car
And was constantly in a bar

Next month, my house got burnt
I went to the village and began to hunt
Because of pain and shame, I cried
I lost hope and my spirit died

Until the fourth month
From the grave we came forth
I and a man familiar with suffering
He wasn’t rich but he was so caring

He said, “I’ve taken away your sorrow
Don’t bother yourself about tomorrow
I was crushed for your iniquity
I’ve taken up your infirmity”

He taught me joy in suffering
With hope as his last offering
Now my life has totally changed
The way I see things have also changed
Now my new house is completed
All my children have graduated
I have brand new cars
And I no longer visit bars

I began to act different
Now I don’t need to pay rent
My house is very charming
And I still indulge in farming

I had nothing
Yet I possess everything
To the world I was a fool
But in him was my wisdom full

All because I believed
I definitely achieved
I was also faithful
And that was fruit full

From January to December
There’s a lot of disaster
From January to December
It’s not easy, you grow stronger

Charles Young
©2021

KING-SIZED

Get an old basket.
Patch with hay, so it leaks no water.
Then fill with straw to its brim.
Soft woolen sheets go next.
Cotton spread over it all.

Next, situate this in a stable.
Where horses neigh their lullabies
And the sweet smell of cattle-dung
Fills the air.

Congratulations.
You just made a King-sized bed.
But what’s a King-sized bed
Without The King in it?

Merry Christmas.

– ‘NONSO JOHN
(c) 2019

Christ-mass

It is the mass for The Christ
A celebration in honour of the Saviour
Procession started by some wise men from the East
With an overflow of shepherds on a field

What is Christmas?
It’s a mass for the First begotten
A celebration in honour of the Lamb
The birth of our Advocate

What is Christmas?
It’s a mass for the Heir apparent
A celebration in honour of The Word
The Word becoming flesh, dwelling with us

What is Christmas?
It’s a mass for Love
A celebration in honour of Love Himself
A redemption plan borne out of Love

What is Christmas?
It’s not about you or your fleshly desires
It’s about loving, caring and sharing
It’s about putting a smile on someone’s face

Christmas is LOVE!!!
Merry Christmas

– Chukwubuigwe
(c) 2019

HELLO DECEMBER: A Christmas Poem

One look at you and I knew you would be mother’s last

For mother did not just scream her best, she screamed her last

You were as perfect as perfect could be

The stars jubilated and the chill in the air agreed

I smiled that night I held you tight and called you mine

 

From the first day you came so alive

We could hardly wait for when you would be twenty five

So you could remind this world again

Of the birth of the one with a name above all names

Who took away our sins and our darkness became extinct

 

If only we could see you as more than just another ember

If only we could appreciate you as we did your brothers

If only we could refocus our priorities; binoculars

If only we could look beyond the spectacular

Then His light would penetrate our eyes and give us sight

 

Happy birthday December,

The days count with little to remember

They say you live for just thirty one

And we would have to face yet another 365 equals one

I only pray we celebrate the Christ everyday as we did in your wake

 

By Princess Pirinye and Ezeonyeka Godswill