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

Which Way

The broad way is tempting.
So spacious, it feels liberating
This disguised bondage
The broad way seems like the logical option
The right answer, The convenient choice
The broad way is the new cool, the celebrated path

And the narrow way seems too lonely
Not wide enough to walk in properly
So I’m always stumbling
Falling head over heels
Trying to keep up with God
Looking up to religion
The author and finisher of my misery
The tormentor of my soul
On this middle ground, my body is in Canaan and soul in Egypt.

I make choices that betray my words
I take steps that draw me back
I’m a little bit of both
But not quite of any
What do you call light with a dash of darkness?

I was on the brink of desperation
Ready to resignation to fate
Surrender to my mistakes
Let myself go
Then He spoke to me, reminded me of what He had said
That His love was louder than my drowning voice
That His grace was stronger than my weak resolve
His Word outweighed my will
His promises infinitely greater than my grave mistakes.

Nothing compares to the safety net of His love
That He would never leave me
He’s right there with me
Not shaking in anger, but extending his grace
That saves me from the sinking sand of religion
In His grace I find strength
To overcome, to live His life
to take a sharp turn off the broad way
to the road less travelled
The path paved by His sacrifice alone

So in life or death
In sickness or health
In my lowest or my highest
I rest easy because
Nothing compares to the promise I have.

Damaris Akhigbe
(C) 2022

The Evening Will Tell

When we think of a group of children in an open place, somehow playtime should come to mind. During holidays or weekends, children could be seen gathering at the house of one person. They will play together and have fun. Sometimes some mothers will serve all of them some snacks. These children can sometimes get along so well, that if a total stranger happens to come around, they may not know whose child is which. But no matter how long they stay and play together, the evening time will always reveal who among them belong(s) in that particular house. The rest will have to go back to their respective houses one way or another.

Jesus said that the servant does not remain in the house forever, only the son does. We may all be rolling together now like we are God’s children, but the evening time will reveal who really is God’s; those who will remain with God. Those who aren’t will surely be sent away. Unlike the children’s case, only two homes are involved here, God’s and the devil’s. If you aren’t God’s, you are automatically the devil’s. So, as we all appear to be God’s children now, playing together at this temporary home, called earth, while God keeps serving us some good meals, do make sure you are God’s indeed. Don’t wait till the evening time before you know where you belong.

Please, thoughtfully answer this, Are you a son or a servant?

[34]Jesus answered them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whosoever committeth (is doing) sin is the servant of sin.
[35]And the servant abideth not in the house forever: but the Son abideth ever.

John 8:34-35

– Funmi P. Adebayo
(c) 2022

Funmi P. Adebayo is a preacher of the gospel of Christ and believes that His gospel covers everything, as God is God of all things without an exemption at all. God has helped him found a ministry by the name, THE SIMPLE LIFE OF CHRIST MINISTRY (AKA THE RESTING PLACE), the platform through which God’s Spirit is helping him to reach out to the world with the simple message of Jesus Christ and by the demonstration of the Spirit and of power, which is solely for the defense and the confirmation of the same gospel of Christ.

Book Review: The Shepherd, The Overseer, and The Soul

Author: Funmi Adebayo
Pages: 150
Publisher: The Christ A Poet Concepts, Nigeria.
Reviewer: Adeleye Olaoye, Ubamara Ezenobi, Zoe Ziva, Ebubechi, Clement Victor

Funmi Adebayo, the author of this book, gives us this gem of a book through the light of the Spirit of God penetrating into 1 Peter 2:25 and Ezekiel 18:4. The Shepherd, Overseer and the Soul is a book aimed at building foundational knowledge on the role that the soul of a man plays in the life of a believer. The Author has broken this book down into 7 Chapters to help relate his message.

The author started by making clear that the human soul is eternal. It cannot be dissolved by death, unlike the human physical body. The soul is the representation of a man in the spirit realm. Therefore, what becomes of the soul of man is the reality of that man

He then further compared the mind as a signal analyzer. An example of a signal analyzer is an Oscilloscope,  it’s a device that analyzes signals of different forms and has a wide application in different fields and professions today. From the author’s analysis, the mind acts as the signal analyzer while the heart takes the final decision.

If man wasn’t already dead spiritually then God wouldn’t have bothered about giving him a new spirit and a new heart.

Funmi presents a compelling argument by clearly stating that it is not enough to just claim you believe in Jesus Christ. You must also prove that by obediently following Him. If you truly believe in Him, you will hear Him and do His sayings. God’s desire for His children to be tamable and coachable just like the sheep because hardly deviate from the path channeled by the shepherd and are much sensitive of intruders or strangers.

We are not of the world. Yet at the same, that does not mean we are not meant to be in charge. This is quite a salient point made in the book reminding us that we are the light of the world and while we remain here we are to be in charge by and for our Lord Jesus Christ and make known the manifold wisdom of God to the principalities and powers among the celestial ones.

Talking about God as Shepherd, Funmi posits that God is completely charismatic in his leadership; strong communicator, empathetic and relatable, confident, motivational. This in return gives us joy, loveliness and makes resources available. His final words were “As we have returned to the Shepherd of our soul, let us trust Him for the best in life. Remember He is the good Shepherd, Who gave His life, His soul, for us His sheep. (John 10:11.)”

Broken ceramics

I have faint memories of my mother
I remember her as a cup
How she always found a way to hold it all together, just before she leaks
Trickles of water falling beside her straight slender figure, ceramic
Till the day daddy pushed her from the table and she broke
Pieces of her piercing little me, till one little pointy mummy tore through my left eye

Now I half see.
Deformed, they think I am
But with what hands would you erase memories’ scars?
With what hands would you race memories cars?
The speed limit of the past experiences dangling in your face before you even make the obvious decision
Those past experiences
Become the obvious decisions and so

I still cannot resist slender girl
Especially when they comment on my eyes
The one blue pupil that’s always learning new ways to shatter ceramic;
Hearts.
My past, present
How I with my fingers have rewritten daddy’s story on many lives.
If they never let go of their past
I’ll always be present, right on time
Before their next decision.

I wonder
If mummy would be proud that the vengeance I sought for her has made me Potter many more ceramics;
Broken
From tables, broken tablets, broken tables of laws
I have become ten plagues walking and everyone wants to chase from Egypt till they drown in a pool of their own tears tricking when they are full.
Maybe we give too much power to all the hurts that have Moses’ed their ways into our lives, dear lions forget about your pride and let his people go!

Finance peace,
UN-till the ridges you’ve prepared to plant hate
Until its roots can’t take in your heart any room.
So that any room you enter.
You’ll leave memories of water. Washing clean from dirt smeared hands, hearts, spirits, bodies, minds. Ceramics.
Set this on your heart
And set the captives free from Egypt.

God has called you, now lead, and let his people go.

UC Truth
©2021

Dear Black Child

Dear black child, You will heal
Heal from the scars buried 6 feet
Deep within the pores of your skin
Wounds that festered on your emotions
And shattered your heart into a million pieces
Now your heart is nothing but a broken glass
Learning how to reflect your wholeness
The image of a girl that once loved

Centuries from now,
When the dust is shaped from your bones,
History will tell a tale of courage,
Of a woman who pulled her weight,
Against the odds clawed around her neck,
How from ashes and burning embers
Built an Empire with and sweat,

Your bones will be a blueprint,
A speck of dust igniting generations,
A gene of women who don’t bend to raging winds,
History will tell a tale of a Woman,
A Warrior emerging from within you,
How you faced your fears,
And became a woman emerging,
An open letter when they unearth you,

A testament of weathering storms,
Taking down giants with your love,
You are a promise of resurrection,
Reminding them that red sea parted in your views,
And when you whispered your last breath,
The night spoke the language of love,
Living blueprints in our heart,

Dear Black child,
You are a miracle folded in the form of a woman,
A woman becoming, learning the intricate language of love,
You were born for this sort of heavy lifting,
You were born a part saint, a part warrior,
And you have emerged the Genesis
Of a new breed of women,
A linkage of goddesses

Dear black child,
You are a goddess,
An ancient scripture,
A prophecy lies in your heartbeat,
This revelation is nestled in your palms;
Truly, greatness lies in your loins!
Live it! Breathe it!


Olaoye Adeleye
(C) 2021.

Faithful and Holy

First created as dust, with the gene of him who failed, I looked at myself as worthless and the least of righteous like, even if I tried my best to be the “most righteous” it was like a filthy rags.
I gave up!

But before I was through, He tapped me and said He’ll rather be the One to give up His life just so I can be recreated no longer by dust but by Breath(The Spirit)

And He did.
On the cross He whispered “It is Finished”

So there! I was created a new being and Gene, no longer traced to dust but now to The One who recreated me.

So when the devil tried to deceive me telling me I’m not worth it and good enough,
He tapped me to remind me; and all I could hear was:

Faithful, Holy.

Zoe Ziva
(C) 2021

A Failed Weapon

There is a weapon, I mustn’t use as a Christian
Because using it, is tantamount to failure
I am strongly warned by captain of the Lord’s army
Never to use this weapon
It is certain that, it will definitely fail whether here or hereafter

Rickety machine gun, Mr. flesh
This weapon is weak to execute righteousness without taking the glory
Executing, holiness, peace, love,
humility, joy, kindness is far-fetched from this weapon
Using this weapon for the Lord’s battle is disastrous

A weapon set against the user
You shoot hatred, you inherit broken relationship
You shoot lust, you inherit vanity
You shoot anger, you inherit disorientation
You shoot worries, you inherit high blood pressure

Truly, is a weapon set against the user
if he uses it, the arm of flesh will fail.
The only authentic weapon to use for the battle
Is the weapon of a new man
Created in the image of Christ Jesus

Brightobong
©2021