You exist not just because you were made.
You existed in the mind of God long before the world was made.
An idea that sprang to life in the factory of your mother’s womb. Your life didn’t begin at the hospital or where else you were born. It began with God.
I mean, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. How huge is that!
A GIANT OF A MAN YOU ARE! So live from where you first existed.
You are a mind blowing idea from a mind blowing God!
Ijeoma Obi
© 2021
Isn’t it exciting when an idea pops into your head unplanned like an unexpected lighting flash? You are excited, you feel so pumped up and ready to go only to realize in few days that you don’t really know how to go about it. Excitement dwindles, frustration sets in, and the next thing on your mind is giving it time. Sometimes, weeks, months, and years go by with you still deliberating or totally forgetting all about it. Imagine the unpleasant feeling you would have when you see someone else executing the exact idea you had a few months back. I am guessing the flashback wouldn’t be as exciting as it was when the idea dropped. You can liken an idea to a crayon – colourful, beautiful, but static on one spot – if you don’t get a hold of it and paint the picture you see, of what good is it?
An idea is many things. One thing is, it definitely is unfinished. It speaks to a possibility, but in itself, it is just a promise. It does not look like much, may not feel like much but an idea is worth a lot because it is the birthplace of tomorrow. It is kind of a paradox because although it may seem inconsequential today, it has potential to be indispensable tomorrow. As exciting as this may seem, an idea comes with it a very important note of responsibility. Like a baby, an idea is fragile, loose and full of mystery, but it is precious and anyone who is lucky to get one is supposed to take care of it and nurture it into something that is strong, definite and distinct in expression. Just like conception, an idea is not always expected but every parent knows that “not being prepared” is no excuse to not “do the right thing” and be responsible. So, do you have an idea? Well, you need to do the right thing.
Just like money, I can bet we’ve lost a couple of ideas every now and then, some you can’t even recall, some you still have regrets about. You are not alone. It is not a function of you not being good or skilled enough for the execution of the idea, but a human struggle we must all deal with. It is not something to beat yourself up about, but rather, choose to brew on your ideas a little more, trusting each step even when you can’t see the full picture. You don’t have to sulk or stay in the confusion of not knowing how. There will be more ideas to come and some you might still not follow through. A good thing to do now is to have a resolve not to let your next idea slip through your fingers.
This is the reality – the end of an idea is the best part of every idea. When you get to reap the benefits that come with stewarding over an idea, I hope you realize that results come at a cost. It is not always a straight forward path, but it is one you must take to get to where you want to be. First, you need to acknowledge the presence of that idea; write it down, ponder over it intentionally, brainstorm. Then you need to carefully cultivate a space for it; share it with people who can possibly expand it and work with you on delivering it successfully – truth is, rarely does it take one man to do all of this. Now that you have created an enabling environment for your established idea (this might take a while) you need to give it time and capacity to grow. This means you MUST grow and let the idea metamorphose as you go. There are many specific steps that go under this over-generalized schematic, but you can bet that the key to all of this is RESPONSIBILITY. You need to watch over your idea like a mother does over her children and give it all it takes to grow, and mature, and take on a life of its own. At the end of it all, you get to sit back and be grateful that what was once a figment of your imagination is now existing before your very eyes.
Godswill Ezeonyeka
Imani Dokubo
(C) 2020
The corpse of an idea
A zombie in my mind
I aim far a head
My time slips by as I bid time
Calculating the different ways to save time
Constantly telling myself how I should be
chaste
While I think off the skirts that I could’ve
chased
Its like I let my potential just waste
While growing, adding, learning at no haste
Write, hand, write for you were made to.
My life feels like a movie part too.
I look to Jesus,
So when I’m down, I know I’m up next.
The Niel
© 2019
I do NOT fear the stars
I fear the sky’s span, its depth and breath, its embrace that swallows everything my size and yours and makes them disappear into insignificance.
Do you have the slightest idea what the sky does to you, mortal man?
That scape up there, it makes you marvel. It lifts a smile unto your face, drives awe into your heart. Your feelings twinkle with the stars. You feel fly. Fly like a firefly, a little dot of light persevering in a dark world. You feel like a peacock, strutting its gaily colored stuff. Just before it gets slaughtered.
The sky’s beauty is a stolen garb woven from a trillion diamonds, the stars that hide the cold, dark, unfeeling universe beneath its ‘skin’. The rule of that universe is selfishness, its path is self-preservation, its goal is self-elevation. And no mortal has ever won against its brutish march.
Neither will you.
Neither will the stars.
Like you, millions have tried to soar past the skies. They pierced it with towers, crossed it with rockets, coursed about it with satellites.
Like you, trillions have burned bright, over eons unfathomable. They gave light and life to worlds innumerable. They were the suns of their age, the stars that stunned our forebears.
Today, they are gone. All of them. All shredded trillion bits, devoured by the same universe. And the sky, this pretty mask of a cold dark monster, keeps its sunlight front, its fraudulent smile.
And the world keeps spinning.
I do not fear the stars. I fear the wretchedness they hide.
Ikenna Nwachukwu Alexander
© 2019
I have an empty well of a belly.
My womb has known nothing but dying blood all my living years.
I have thought of no one but myself,
Fed no one but myself,
Placed no one before myself,
How do I have a womb except it was made to bear another, and yet
I have no idea what it means to pour a part of myself into another.
“A breast feeding mother?”
That’s a foreign name to me.
“A bread winning father?”
Who dares call me?
I am my own hero,
My own salt,
My own light in a shady place,
Come with me and I’ll lead you into the darkness.
I’d snuff the life out of my light because I do not want to share it.
I’m an evil already happening,
A menace waiting to be uncovered.
My tactics are new everyday
Yet my mind is old.
I am a dirty, dirty soul with a clogged up heart and a rigid body.
This is why I have come before the Rock of Ages,
Before The fire that purifies without consuming to ashes.
My tears produce more salt now than I have ever thought to produce.
I do not know when I ever took lessons from the ocean
But my ill will like waves come crushing over me.
I am caught up in my own dirt web,
Spun in my own fear.
I have come to you as a barren womb in need for a child.
I was born to be mother, now may I know a child?
I have come as a fruitless tree in its season.
As hungry fire,
I’m desperate.
As a docile branch,
I submit.
I accept defeat.
Let your rains fall on this arid land again, Lord.
I admit nothing was ever my own;
As I am left with nothing now I am reminded where I come from.
Give me one child, Yahweh ‘tis All I ask.
Surprise the quick-to-conclude with Your quick-to-deliver.
Let them know when their calling-me-barren tongues call me mother,
Let them know from every side of the flipping coin earth,
That You make the Barren Mother.
Adaobi Chiemelu
(c) 2018
Christ a poet 