The Three Abstractions

Time like air is boundless, existing independent of us
Helping us take note, employing us
To nurture after our to-do-list
Yet reminding us the risk
of not being
of not seeing
The thought of it as illusion only makes bold the impact on our vision
An endless circle
Old enough to seal life’s chronicles
Yet does nothing to change it
The only certified entity to bridge it.

Love like the sea, is deep
Accommodating everything cold
and warm-blooded
Not seeking its own way
Needs nothing external to become
Countless questions on its existence
Unending thoughts on its purpose
And like the absence of peace
Making monsters of those who go by without it
The true essence of its fragrance waiting always on those who have gone past feeling
to becoming love.

Death, what happens when you’re busy making other plans
Claiming more lives with its rude interruption
The least talked about of all three
Yet with each blow comes a string of thought on time and love
Each seized breath a trail of shadows to your canvas
With more questions than answers
How much time is left?
Is love evident?
What next after death?

Imani Dokubo
©2021

Enough

“Madam, would you like anything else?”

No.

I’ve. Had. Enough.

I’m done with this junk you serve on a platter
This sorry excuse of a diet
That I swallow,
To convince myself that I’m eating
A 5 second prayer, one verse of scripture
To convince myself that I’m growing…
I’m sick of it!

I’m tired of your new recipes
Food that feeds on me.
Superficial Christianity with a dash of religion,
Truth served rare with ego stuffings.
Glamorized gospels that are far from good news
leaving me bloated, constipated
full of myself and void of Him.

And what’s with the drinks?
Sweet to taste, but leaves an unquenchable thirst
words promising but empty
incapable of answering life’s burning questions
Don’t you serve Living Water??

And why is your food so costly?
your charges are outrageous!
My relationship with God, My peace, My joy, My destiny is too high a price.

So I’m sorry Mediocre Christianity
I won’t be having any more.
I’ve. Had. Enough.

Damaris Akhigbe
(C) 2020

The Journey

Could it be that I forget my way back home?
What should I do now?
Was it not the road others had passed?
Many questions weny through me

The road closed and muddy
I was confused, not going back or front
Stained and made dirty by the muddy and dirty water

As I navigated my way through Canaan land
My knowledge failed, my experience lost
Thoughts became dark
Feelings swung as a child handles the swing

Suddenly, Christ sent the good Samaritans
They took me through the muddy place
Oh! What a blessedness of godly companions in times of troubles
Because they see what I could not see

Brightobong
©2020

In Focus

One of the best things I have read in recent times was in Joyce Meyer’s words – “Life is in the journey, not the end”. This like many other variations of this wisdom tells us to not miss out on the beauty going on around us because we are so fixated on the goal.

Boy do I agree with this thought. However, just like every journey, sometimes you are going to look out the window and all you see is trees after trees… and then some more trees. It gets boring and soon enough sleep is the only option you are left with.

In this moment, you really need the end in focus. I think this why God is in the character of showing us a glimpse of what the end will look like, because times will come in the journey where you will question the use of the monotony you have to live with and when they do come, your eyes have to leave what is right in front of you be set on the things that are to come.

This in no wise suggests that the journey should not be enjoyed. However it should not be the focus, it should not be the inspiration. There is a point to all of this, an end, a purpose. Think about it often, plan for it and when life doesn’t make sense, remember you are on a journey to somewhere and it is worth all the trouble.

I wish you grace and strength in all you do. See you at the finish line!

– Ezeonyeka Godswill
#NowThink (2019)

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL – Part 1

The most beautiful girl my experience taught smiled at me today
It has been a long class and I thought I was following till that smile
I have myriads of questions but I fear my mates might have a comic relief
So I try moving my shivering lips apart in an attempt to smile back
My grades are average so why the warmth in her smile?
My grades are average so I must be missing something a brighter student can point out
Soon after class, a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pair of joy-flooded eyes
I can’t hold her gaze, my legs are trembling and I have a sudden urge to pee
I sit down, clamp my legs together with my hands between them
She seem to notice my discomfort so she pulls out my hand and holds
“What have I got myself into”, I think
Without mincing words she tells me she likes me and would want a friend in me
On the 3rd attempt at trying to talk and not recognizing my voice
I clear my throat and all I can mutter is ‘okay’
I could change classes and routes and never see her again but she has other ideas
She walks me home, my palm in hers
With each laughter and chatter, I feel at home
She tells tales too beautiful to be true about herself;
Describes her thoughts of me in ways my exposure has not afforded my imagination
I unpack boxes I leave packed because I was always on the move
Now I am home

ChyD
© 2019

CHRONICLES OF A DROWNING MIND

Dead zone
Broken soul
Scary shadows
Those are rhythms of a poor old kid
Whose ways never pleased anyone, not even herself.

No hope
Buried grace
Weak for the race
Those are top list words recorded in the word billboard of her mind
She used to be of the royal line
But now goodness turned to lime
She sees God’s intentions as the least
Her faith so rusty and loosen like an abandoned screw
There she becomes a beast that feast with the devil.

Records of heart failures
Impotent to believe the best inside
Drenched with the thoughts of discovery
Draining in the memory lane of no understanding
Tears from the sole of the heart dripping down like flood yet none sees these flood of questions buried in tears

Travelling alone in travail… I weep in smiles…
Because in my green days have I grown grey because am yet to discover the me in me

In silenced smiles I’m drown in fears because my mind has become aged in thoughts

Hold my weeping mind
Embrace my tears in warmth,
Caress me with words of rescue
Carry me in the wings of warmth understanding
For I drown in silence

Oh…save me from this destiny device
For I transit into the groove of eternity
My powerhouse drowns
I plead for restoration if that exist
I seek for redemption for this battle is beyond me

Nonye
The Alchemist
© 2019

Questions Crossed Out

My wailing,
What does it weigh,
Against the sighs of seven billion souls, each,
Digging wounds into my already shattered depths,

My breathing,
What does it matter,
When it’s lost in waves of first winds drawn and last gasps sown,
Lashing earth for eons,

My living,
Is it a rare gem or a speck of dust,
Amongst countless weddings, empires collapsing,
And the universe’s billionth galaxy collision,

The answer,
Is a death to cross these questions out,
The meaning of existence, hanging on a stake,
For my sake.

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2018