Once upon a hello, I met the man who stood with me as dreams turned into delivery
Once upon a phone call, I heard the voice that shouted my victory when my voice was stilled
Once upon a hello, friendship found faithful foundation
Once upon a phone call, discernment defied distance delivering destiny
Once upon a hello and the chair was a bit more full, the world a bit more home
Once upon a phone call and hope returned in the dark room, the Lord in view again
Ezeonyeka Godswill
©2026
I was recounting to my colleague one of my childhood memories of traveling with my mother, and why it was so pleasant.
I am from the riverine area of Nigeria, a proud Ijaw woman. I can’t really speak my language, but that has never killed the flame of pride that kindles when I hear it spoken, when I see my culture expressed, when I breathe the air of my land after being away for a long time, and when I feel its waters. This memory is about the waters.
As a child, traveling between Bonny Island and Port Harcourt was one of my favorite things to do with my mum. Aside from the snacks that came as a bonus package, the way the boat danced on the waves, the stories that abounded, the fishing ports flanking the sea, the body warmth from being packed together in a small boat (four to five people per bench, and about five benches per boat), and the excitement of traveling when it rained all added to the beauty of the experience. But this memory is about when it rains while traveling at sea.
The commercial boats were open-topped, so when it rained during the journey, a large canopy would be spread over the passengers. Those sitting at the edges were burdened with the responsibility of holding it down, keeping those in the middle safe from the wind and the heavy raindrops. As a child, I would make beats in my head, following the rhythm of the raindrops hitting the canopy. But this memory is about the driver, who sails even when the passengers are covered up.
While everyone stays hidden under the canopy, shielded from the harsh weather, the driver stays put, navigating the wind, the waves, and the rain. He literally weathers the storm for the sake of his passengers—and for his stomach’s sake, as that is how his income flows. His passengers have to trust that they are in good hands; whatever happens out in the open is up to the driver to navigate until the rain stops. But this write-up isn’t really about my memories, however beautiful I perceive them to be.
This is about the rain and my ark. Like the passengers on that boat, I can’t control the vessel, nor can I control the weather, but I can control where I place my trust. So, I trust He who stirs my ark, because if I know nothing else, I know I am His priority. He will do everything to keep me afloat and on the right path, no matter how much rain pours, how loudly the thunder claps, or how hard the hail beats. While that happens, maybe I will make a song from those sounds and dance with the boat—because that, too, is all part of the experience.
Ere
©2026
From up here I see the folly now
Wise men look like kids without his Word now
Once human, I’m divine now
And By his Word, I define “Now”
I’m Christ-raised, no be levitation
I got gratitude for this elevation
In His mercy, God plans ahead
Answers wait before a prayer said
Men puff when they won’t pass
God’s Word is my compass
I got holy warriors praying for me
Yet I trust and I CTRL-S beings
Souls won everywhere he sends me
Some trust in their riches
I just send God my bills
Someone told me I should live below my means
To be honest, I’m confused because Jesus is my means
I got Heaven in my genes
So I could pray out anything
I go sliding on my knees
Over each and everything
Because, Bro, before I pray
God supplies my every need
So imagine not the day
When my love gives way to greed
Sorry, but I don’t grind for steeze
Sorry, but he promised safety and never ease
Get translations, compare wording
Grace taught me generosity
All I have is for stewarding
But please pray before copying me
Eye-of-a-needle people everywhere
Bidding the elect to live by fear
O Lord when I’m greedy, pull me out of there
Please don’t wait a year
Dont let my heart write off hot tears
And The Lord is the movie where I cast my cares
God is still enough for me
My technique and energy
And his presents are my pedigree
I am great if I am serving him
I have lived out many a hymn
Keep your worship, only worship him
Take a billionaire and drop him in the Kalahari
Let him fear the name of God, let him learn to tarry
Let him learn ‘Without the poor, there would be no safety’
Let him say, “To lack your voice, Lord, is Poverty.”
Pure in heart vs poor in heart
Poor in spirit yet playing a part
One day dead, next day living
And no cold shoulders,
And nothing lacking,
What prinicipa- mehn we broadcasting
I’m in bucks in God’s inbox
Nepo-Baby and I flip flops
Shares in Futures that Christ bought
Can’t talk now, hallelujahs fill my mouth
From down here, I can reply now
Fools sit as Kings because their names are changed now
Once human, but something new now
And my fate is faith, but love is how I hope now.
Godzniel
©2026
These moments,
These moments of my life,
Christ is in my boat
in the midst of the storm.
Last night,
I woke him up.
We sat at the edge of the boat
and talked a lot.
He said,
“You want me to speak to the storm?
I’ve left it long enough
to let you learn a thing or two;
That first,
the storm wouldn’t consume you.
And no, it wouldn’t hurt you.
That I am your peace
in the midst of it all.”
I said,
“Yes, yes,
though it’s been raging,
there’s a serenity I feel inside.
I know so well
that it’s because you are right here.
I saw your hand
when the boat tipped
a little too close to the ocean.”
“Yeah,
you beckoned,”
he responded.
We sat still
through the chaos.
Laughed
like we owned the waves
and controlled its timing.
Dinner was set,
and I finally said,
“Peace,
peace be still,
Not a morsel of this meal
should be lost to this disturbance.”
He smiled,
picked up the tray
and gave thanks.
Jahz_rhythm
©2026
He laid in the dirt and they looked exactly alike.
One flesh returning to where it lived,
Used to be the talk of where he’s from,
Loved by all; the stay and leave,
A realization hit,
That this finely-built boastful heap
Is a monument of sand.
When the wind blows on a house
When the rain beats on it
It falls, Santos.
Because falling, is exactly what this sand does.
He laid in the dirt and they looked exactly alike.
Colours of defeat painted on the two alike.
Down and trodden though not closen, have become their look-alike.
One day!
Words spoken fell on dirt’s ears
When the wind blew this time
Dirt rose.
Like soft flower petals in the wind
The natural colours of change
Something was different about this flesh.
It was lighter.
It was brighter.
It was beautiful.
And this time when it fell,
He laid in the dirt, and they didn’t look exactly alike.
ucTRUTH
©2026
Holy Spirit,
My source of joy,
My wisdom and peace.
My Lord, You have empowered me with Your love.
Darkness covers the land,
Tyranny and evil have risen;
But I am untouched,
Walking in Your light like a flame of fire.
Emmanuel, my King,
You are the Light of the world,
And in Your light, I see the light.
Christ is the ocean of living water;
I am like a tree planted in Christ’s Garden.
My leaves blossom,
And in all I do, I prosper with ease.
I am successful,
I am fruitful,
But not by my own power.
Christ in me is my hope and glory.
I am strong in the LORD.
All my beauty and fruitfulness
Are to the glory of Abba Father,
The God of Abraham,
The God whose love endures forever.
King David
©2026
Blood
The sea of molten mortality rivers it’s way through thousands of arteries
And not in vain…
Although, the resulting could still be an exercise in vanity.
Come with me.
To the records of slain fathers
—Sullied and grown mothers
Without which
The next generation would be a lil low on the first stitch
Long before Nine
Think Abel
Increasing the right volume
We need God’s labels
To open the right bottle
Bone of my Bones
The hard part isn’t amputation but definition
—doctored derision
Because it was when I stopped asking about Rahab
And started asking folks about Eve—then I discovered
You spent three nights in another Adam’s Eden.
The joke’s dry now but it swam with the seamen
I clock way different from when I trusted feelings
Deductions only add up when divide God’s stories
No flaws on this
He is how we win though
Stay with me—
Muscles are for shrugs
To squeeze in extra goodwill amidst a hug
With only one strategy —spin the block
Because strength is not what wins battles
Strategy, time and chance still argue
Yet if a man can pray
God is not deaf, or indifferent
Think with me
Skin and flesh
Gram of meat
Inflated instances of sentient parchment
Animated beyond the animalistic
Forgetful of every moment before we first recognize our names
Breathe with me
In time,
We are introduced to Life
To taste it and handle it
To speak it and be led by it
In time, every heart can read the plan
And by an offer to upgrade to premium
The mortal mist becomes a dead man
He must return to draw first blood
if he will become a son of God.
Dialysis in the Spirit
And then one by one
Miracle by miracle
A son is given
A child is born
Godzniel
©2026
I feel loved and owned, on God
A quarter of the way there and yet enthroned, I trust
Like the Love of God is spread abroad and we’re all touched
Yeah we’re all touched
Small words from her smirk and in all the multiverse I blushed
Lord, I thank you from all of my heart, on God
I’ve never regretted taking this path, I trust
My mom told me a story,
About a woman of her country
Who met a young man, and fell in love with him
He didn’t seem so bad, his people were famed
They dated for a while and then they got married.
The woman’s new home was made of six people.
The Patriarch and his Wife,
The First Son and the woman
The Second Son and his Wife
The Patriarch and his wife came to this woman’s country
With some golden bravery
And the First son’s marriage was a big celebration
Because the Second was already married.
But not long after, the three men died suddenly
And the grief collapsed the whole family
Post-grief, With no grand kids
from her newlywed sons, both now deceased
The Patriarch’s Wife decided she would release the younger women
Let them remarry.
I am old, she said
Let me return to my country
And the Patriarch’s Wife left the town much richer
But now without her husband, and her sons never saw home. Hurrying on the bus,
she couldn’t help but feel followed.
Maybe it was the killers of her men, who knows?
She pushed and slid into her seat
Then froze, that woman was seating by the window
Her First son’s wife
She sat down.
The two women returned to the land of the Patriarch.
The older woman was born there, she ought to sit a matriarch
But now without the respect of when she first embarked,
She returned with the woman and an urge to attack
Anyone who said anymore, “Thank God you’re back!”
Meanwhile the woman went into the city and she found work.
Beautiful and sweaty when she’d concentrate
Very soon, someone spun it to the Boss
There’s this new worker they’ve been warning me about
Boss said chill, I will see her on my rounds
Of course
When He saw her there was no harm in her moves
Head down, numbered of the very least staff
But then she was beautiful
Days later those staff were getting special treatment
Days later only she was getting special treatment
She told the Patriarch’s wife of her predicament
The Old Lady asked, “what’s the name of the Boss? “
And when she replied, the Old Lady gasped
The woman shivered a little.
Had death followed them back here to be total?
The Old Lady said, you are very very blessed.
That man is my kin and you know his intents
Withdraw from his gaze, then go when I’ve said.
And you may have found yourself a bright future
God is thanking you for helping me with my chore
And so the woman found a husband in her dead husband’s hometown
And this time, they lived happily ever after.
How do I know?
Well because my name is Jesse.
And it’s my story too.
Godzniel
©2026
