If to upgrade regularly

February 9, 2022Leave a comment

Yo

Welcome to the upgrade
Danfo like I don’t fall
Dusk be my time after all is said and dawn
Had a really planned day, got a lot of work done

This morning I thought deep about something
How we shun the Word and get to anthropomorphizing
Someone who made trees and the python
Clearly that’s is demonic influence and a nice one
Even if I wake up tied to a chair
I am set free by the Word wey I hear
The human condition isn’t the feeling of our hands down
It’s the illusion of enjoyment always being around
And never meaning anything when the trumpets sound

So, from 2013 till today, every few months I conduct an upgrade of my mind. I do it by introspection, “Christrospection”, teaching myself new habits and such… I suspect that it was during one of these “upgrade” that I wrote on this day.

I kept writing:

Recently I found out how it really goes
Judas is saved like a cloud upload
Suicide doors don’t open damnation
Samson did the same after judging the nation
Eyes on faith, Ntụtụ bu decoration
I got power, Agbara to give the nations

Do you recall Peter and his lies
After the first murder, bro Cain went to hide with God’s bullet proof. Chai.
No let them lie to you, and I don’t mean Mohamed
God forgives all and he never leaves you dead
So if you need the OT for the OT, come and meet me
What I studied was really John for my BSc

And after a brief pause, I opened the floor at 8:09 PM. This was the time I brought forth the topic; Meditation.

The first person to respond in poetry was Damaris. Damaris is Christapoet’s host in the Upword series on Instagram. Pretty lady with a serious schedule. She came through at 8:25 PM:

My thoughts speaks an unheard language

An unknown tongue
Too sacred or solemn for my lips to speak
Words would ruin it
So I’ll just let my heart do the talking

I’ll sit in this silence
In the quietness of this moment
I’ll turn down the world’s volume
Till I can hear your heart beat

I

Yes, she purposely ended with “I”. That’s one of the things that I love about poetry. You can mean what you want and reveal what you want, but openly hide what you want.

Sweet Food is never plenty

And so it came to pass, that there were no freestyles until 12:37 PM, when one of my favorites, Eremi said a few words about meditation:

M E D I T A T I O N

Words spoken
From residual abundance

Words heard
amidst uttered abundance

Words received
Alongside tweeted abundance

Words munched on
A mix diet of fresh and leftovers

Pictures recreated
The urge to speak into being

On the canvas of reality
Words meditated on
Become the pictures painted
To recreate again
From residual abundance

Pearlythoughts

Ok, so her pen name is “Pearl”. Hehehe. Why would I call her Pearl when she has a beautiful African name such as EREMIPAGHMO?

What I wrote next, at 1:09 PM, was supposed to be…a retort to Eremi’s freestyle entry, but unfortunately; it was the last entry for the day. Here I am, Christapoet to the World:

I am going to try to write ignoring music
Even though there’s places I can go that’s less acoustic
The negative stimulus has me thinking at my own pace. I should use this to give me a running start.

Like levitate and gravitate like i ate 8 eighteen years olds or i refuse to preach
How dare you blame you blame another’s will on me
That’s what it meant by all authority

The black sea is waiting to be crossed
No. Eremi, so this is Saturday spills
For real, i wonder if i want tweak the theme
And thunder past the label like a beast indeed
I heard

My father paid for everyone one of them, i am commander messenger
I logistic word of God
Not afraid to stand in buses
But i have no proof of that
Got lil Lizzy all tongue speaking
Let her testimony speak
I am higher but i share
That’s that love of which I speak
What is height and what is peak, I found my stories in zooming in

Yeah yeah, and that is how it went down on the 4th of June 2021.

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Niel Quchi
Damaris
Eremi

Ordinary Realizations

February 8, 2022Leave a comment

12:23 AM

June 28th, 2021

I think this is the name of the first TPain album I ever encountered. On this day, at this moment, I don’t really remember what it was that I was thinking…

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

The topic I chose for this day was Epiphany. It is not rare to see me writing so late in the night or so early in the morning.

12:40 AM, I wrote:

Missed calls from sleep caused

By laws still anonymous
Godswill asked for prose
Only cams see a Niel pose
Fat girls and slim bros
Body spray and new clothes
I found I can’t boast
Bottle of the Holy Ghost

And thus began a long instance of life’s irony. Though it was so early in the morning when I began the freestyle session, it was not until 7:32 PM in the adolescence of dusk, that Uba wrote:

I hear voices in my head and they speak to me,
I see them standing in this haunted house
like scarecrows about to plow my soul with their hoes,
I fear they have planted fear now scared that harvest season is near.

This fear, now spreading through my body like stage 5 cancer
I can’t seem to find the answers to these growing thoughts about to blow my mind
Making me bind so I confide in loneliness, converse with sheets
Y’all will think that I’m insane, I have a feeling that my soon-to-be new resident might be a Mad House.

I sometimes wonder

This new darkness that I have found myself in, how do I get to this place?
How I fell into this base so dim, it seems I’m stuck in this maze doing a merry go round, I am so lost and don’t think I can be found
My eyes shiny like silver surfer searching for escape but I am Galactus Slave,
It is devouring my happiness and though I patiently wait for dawn
When I once felt like a king but here I am just a pawn

My mind tells me its CheckMate, that I can’t find a way out
I can’t fight this feeling

I thought I was superman but this house is my crib tonight.
Creaking stairs, Broken Windows
These walls look like clowns even batman would be scared of the Joker in a poker face.

I’m stuck
My body feels like an Overpriced apartment and these voices in my head are those of a nagging landlord that I have grown tired of running from,

So I brace myself for my end.

But how do I return what I never owned?
How do I take what I didn’t give?

Cuz I had sieved the truth and drowned in these lies
Let slithering tongue in to deceive
Have lived in dark so much all I recognize is Eve
But I refuse to give in to this deceit
The potter’s hand never made a mistake
His air runs through these lungs
This tunnel has a light at the end
Suicide can’t be my savior
It isn’t the author and finisher of me
That Job had been done on the cross

Phew!! Like, he had me holding my breath, wondering if he was really going to veer so far off-topic. But I guess that that is the nature of realizations. You wander until you stumble upon yourself…suddenly knowing, suddenly seeing something that was there all along.

Chimbuchiamaama John Solomon Igbo is more popularly known as Mindsmith; Spoken Word artist, recording artist, Radio/TV personality, DJ, Event Planner, Freelance Writer…I just want you to get a glimpse of my friend, Mindsmith, and see a new perspective when you read what he wrote at 8:19 PM:

Look, see the future before you.
A year and a half ago you
hadn’t come this far
but now look at you
The little flower you were
a big tree has grown from this mustard seed.
You come out of your revelry,
Have you been daydreaming?
Nope, you had an epiphany.
A revelation has come

At first, you want to be the realist,
the very first critic of your own invention.
But you can’t deny the confirmation that burns in your soul.
The same confirmation when you pray.
Yes, you know what I’m talking about.
Let’s end it here.
My guy is waiting to use my phone and make a call.

I see it as pride. Plenty of confidence in his ability to be poetic while obviously trying hard not to be. While he chose to “End it here”, at 8:24 PM, after a long day, I continued:

Lemme start here

I used to write a lot of descripto
Now I only follow the script oh
My aunt told me, “Stop with the crypto!”
I told her, “CBN didn’t say so.”

I realized something this year though
Jehovah Jireh everyday Bro
It’s how I reap where I never did sow
And trusting in his love is the peace oh
That quick maths
The real peace maths

The parable is told of the sparrow
Forked wings, fast thing, but he doesn’t sow
But me, fasting, I dey harbor
Resentment, when God meant that I lack not
Desires made of greed make me pray more
Recently I found a few of my mates oh
Never really planned from the get-go
They don’t have the speed or direction
But here we are led, we’re the Lord’s own.
Agidigba

A brief pause, and at 8:58 PM:

Ain’t no strategy that can out-plan
A man freestyling from God’s hand
The winds of life dey blow like fake charger
But nothing offs his stabilizer
Fervent, dogged, steady praying
They will never see him coming
He who sees the end from starting
He will finish what he’s starting

Shey you wanna be starting something

I am Micheal when I jack sin
I’m a son moon-walking
Ain’t no news thriller than this
But there’s no condemning
And the power reels me in again
Hopelessness is impossible
God’s got plans for the things I’ll do
I am free, oh yes it’s true
But only when I admit the truth

Who can separate the two of us
Ain’t no enemy as serious
Since I trust my Jesus
We are one like a Simba song

Though we are many

Only rushing cause it’s fun to run
Can’t you see the way my life is run
When I see my worry level up
I just go and dive into the Word
Dive into the Word
And I speak the Word
My confession repetition up
Like the Lady with the thing with blood
I don’t really need a Doctor
And when men lock the door
Yeah you know that I win though
Viewpoint made of God’s Word
Still the very best option

If you are subscribed to the daily #quotes that Christapoet releases, you will have seen Ebube’s work. She’s spectacular. Here she went, at 9:33 PM:

I testify of a love that satisfies and on you confers the power of sonship
Through one dip, He did wash so clean With no tip.

I testify of an opportunity to learn where you do not qualify by works but can walk through the door as though you did.

I’m a testimony
Rescued through Yahweh’s sudden appearance, that entrance knocked the wind off my pipe just like that my way paralyzed

Though in clothes deemed fit for a pile of rag without denial he accepted to buy me from the cell where I was dragged and ragged he tagged me

A slave having no decent testimonial
with a heart as bitter as bile
not with money did he but with the blood currency the very reason I can claim decency when from infancy I wrecked of sin

The CAP ladies each have a particular style; but collectively, the styles are actually similar. Except for St. Davnique of course. Maybe one of these days, We’ll dwell on that…

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Niel Quchi
Mindsmith
UBA
Ebube

Immortal Daughter

January 27, 2022Leave a comment

Yes I wanna be starting something!
I have to be startin’ somethin!!!

Today, we look at the last day of May 2021. On this day, the 31st of May, at 10:29pm, for no apparent reason that the need to read, I wrote:

I was a child when we started walking
The heights were hid beyond the clouds, I would practice staring
And Father told me face your school work, it more important
And when you’re done with that then facing this won’t be discordant
But what he didn’t say was that we were a fam of peasants
And dreams belong to those who don’t mind being the miscreant

I wonder though about the people who were here before me
We talk of passion now but some of them would find it funny
They live from hand to mouth and yet their stomachs live on empty
There is no height but tables made of meat and something juicy

But that was just a spark of Niel. On this day, Chika brought ze fire. She started at 10:55pm, Chika St. Davnique, goddess of CaP wrote:

So many times we wished to ring the bell of truth.
To dial the phone and say the words that our hearts were heavy with.
To explain the real thread of reason that held our acts together.
To let go of that addiction born of sleeping with our pain.
To yell. …sing along to melody we once loved
Scream at the shape of our frustration. ..
Dance.
Dare.
Dream.
So many times we stopped short.
No right time ever showed,
Until many left and time ran out on
us

St. Davnique

She tagged it #oldiegoodie

She had probably written it a while back. She continued st 11:06pm, so close to the next day, and said:

SWEET BY AND BYE

I came.
I saw
I was conquered. ….
Slain in the arms of total surrender.
Banking on strength beyond my ken.
You held my hands.
Taught me to walk on bended knees.
I did not think equality a gift to be contended over

Why bother?
You are the best part of uncertain tomorrows.

Nothing is sure on this side of time

But You…
You are the pressed down,running overflow,

Flowing from the wells of my existence and essence.

My defined definition, definitely.

Boulders bask beside boulevards be speaking the bedazzling beauty of your magnanimity.

Phew!

Words be dear and rare

Scarce,yet I dare to share
like scarves carved into history as they wrapped a widow’s two mites

As carefully guarded as two fish and five loaves,

let these mine mind meditations mindfully yours truly be more minded fully,
That they be Yours,multiplied fully.
Bringing in a harvest of not just sweet words but lived love

Until I meet you at eternity’s near side.
I remain yours truly Jesus,

the Saint on Your heart’s side

St. Davnique.

The way she signs them, you have to know that she was not freestyling.

11:34pm

Could she have typed so fast in a freestyle session?..

Her last entry for the day:

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS

I’m feeling one kain
Just a few sips was all I took
I swear down guy!

I’m too tush for slurry talk

See,
I’ve never been but if I were,
I figure I’d be able to tell you that I’m scared!!!

Man!!! I dey fear die!!!

No be say go come,

But na only God know say I dey doubt!

Like I look at my reflection and I wonder,

“Who’s the lair,”

My past wonder or my present pain?

But I’m not at all drunk so I can’t be caught unfresh

I mean how can I let you know I’m a loser?

Yes oh!

I don forget wetin e be like to score goal!

Man, don’t get me wrong oh,

God has been good oh.

But how do I tell you that I struggle to be grateful,

Because the blessings come in trickles where pain is a flood?

My guy leave matter.

I’m probably the biggest fraud you’ll ever meet.

Yahoo girl ni mi!

But wait let me drink small water and see if I’ll be fine.

I’m still feeling…one kain

Yeah, and her writing is fluid. She likes to just play around with delivery and style. I like it. And she called it “Drunken Confessions”. What do you think? Was she writing under the influence?!

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Niel Quchi
Chika St. Davnique

You don’t have to be lonely

January 25, 2022Leave a comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

In a workbook of God discussions, I revealed how I could be late with the release of the topic of the day. There are also days when I totally forget the significance of the day. That is to explain why we are here on the 21st of May, all the way from the 7th.

Nonso John came in at 9:20am with bleeding stone:

A bleeding stone.
A crying hair strand.
And a thousand other oddities.
All spectacles I’ve once beheld.
But, sitting cross-legged in this place,
Watching this stranger smile at me,
Ghoulish eyes, golden teeth.
Hairs on my skin began to crawl.
I never felt silence
Tickle me like a child.
I swear, I didn’t laugh.
Okay, maybe I laughed a lil bit
Before I started to cry.
I’m standing on the precipice again.
The desert sands, an eternity
Stretched from here on out.
The fear rattles something in my ribs.
But, I’m plodding right on alone.
I never felt silence
Pierce me like a ninja’s katana
I swear, it didn’t even hurt.
Okay, maybe it did a lil bit
Before I started to bleed.
I never felt silence
Slam me like a knock-out punch.
But this stranger is stranger no longer,
Ghoulish eyes and bad breath notwithstanding,
For, we became friends last night.
Now, I’m shooting for the heavens
And I’ll try and catch the rain.
So, hold your ticket, youngins
Daddy’s going to stop the train.
I never heard silence
Whisper sweet empties to me.
Nor felt this long lovely cuddle with her,
Hold each other oh-so-damn close,
Like I felt today.
I hate the conspiracy of silence.
Like him and her and they too
All of creation, and Creator too.
Collude to miss my every single call.
Courtesy herself wants no part of this.
For your sake, I pray.
I pray you never hear silence.
Or feel mute stupefaction.
When answers are all you seek.
Still, I never felt silence.
Love me like this one does.

And after that, there was an uncanny 2hour interval. Like, why did Ebube wait till exactly 10:20 to say this?

Subliminal is a minister, how many of you know her?
You see,
She is like a sister
inside Esther
her assistance to feet trapped like ants on the exposed tongue of a frog sways conclusion.

It’s only an illusion if you weren’t named feeble minded that very moment when you feel your foots scrambling up the stairs it creeps in, transmitting sensations like an ant working with even steps on a skin before it stings
Lark sings carelessly of what they think; one who is slack in his job is the brother to destruction…
Mild feelings of discomfort shouldn’t be your beast, ball rolls from the crowd giving no wave of warmth don’t be too serious rollick
You’re not obliged to hunting feelings of embarrassing you on a pedestal, rock pedestals are results of erosion you know.

If your subconscious erode intentions from a pinnacle belltower obstacles
When you see yourself working up the podium it shouldn’t be a mirage, the range within veins swaying like lightning can make you timid, as self reminds you of how bashful you are to say something too you weren’t given the spirit of fear but of sound mind and power.
It’s far better to dare mighty things to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure.

Now, bear in mind that I had not yet said the topic. I didn’t say so nor was there any more freestyling till after 11am, at 11:06am. The Topic?

NEVER WALK ALONE

Before I say anything further, here is UC Truth at 11:10am; just four minutes after the topic was given:

Maybe God gave us two feet
just to teach us
that we should never walk alone

I know you were expecting a long one. Sometimes, there is not really much on a man’s mind.

Now, I was about to talk about the topic. I believe that either in God Sightings or What to pray about, I mentioned that I trust God for these topics. So sometimes, when they pop in my head, I’m like, “Lord, really?!”

At 11:35am, Captain Edet came through like (no, not like bang daraerang)… And he named his freestyle. This guy:

*Unashamed*
Let me some room
I have a speech to make,
Hear now, the words that I speak.
I’m a child of God and I’ve got no shame
I’m a saint of God because he calls me one
I will stand on the highest peak, shout at the top of my voice and make sure the world hears my words.

I’m unashamed of the gospel of Christ
The gospel that breaks chains
Sets the captives free
The gospel that brings victory
Makes the sick man whole
I’m unashamed to declare this day my love for the Father,
ByOh yes, that Mighty Man of war that rules the heavens and earth
The Supreme Commander of the host of heaven
He is my God.

I’m unashamed to proclaim my stand
My salvation and victory
I’m unashamed because I wasn’t given the spirit of fear, no
But that of love and of a sound mind.
Why should I feel shame when I was bought with blood, the blood that speaks better things than that of judgement–the blood of Abel
I’m not ashamed to be called a Christian, this is my identity, this is my reality.
I am who God says I am and I AM NOT ASHAMED.

And he didn’t stop…at 11:46 he dropped another at 11:46am:

I will not leave you nor forsake you,
In the thickest fog, I’ll be there.
When the storm rages and threatens the peace of the ocean, I’ll be there.
When the earth quakes, I’ll be there.
Do not be afraid for I have overcome the world, I’ll be with you always and you’ll never have to walk alone

And then, my people, I thought that the day would be full of poetry spurts like this…but UBA at 1:50pm was the last spurt. Turns out, the topic is Liverpool FC’s Motto or something…so Uba went straight for the neck, with football word associations:

All the arsenal I need, that’s the word
You cut me and forgiveness is all I bleed
Proud Liverpool fan
You know I never walk Alone
I live in HIS Cantonment
Military zone
Tell the Devil stay clear
Washed in his blood
Sin and I don’t stay near
Connect to my source like a charger head to a cord
Always a winner
My God is Mercy
The Devil can’t do me frodd
See, He’s the Way maker
Chain breaker
The owner of the field
Not just a plot but the entire acre
So no matter what life plays
My coach is the game changer
And when the whistle blow, that’s Rapture
It’s game over
So better have in in your corner
Make you no waka Alone

And that was it for freestyles that day. I wonder which month to go to next…

I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time

Authors:
Nonso John
Ebube
UC Truth
Edet
Uba

The Costs of an Opportunity

January 21, 2022January 21, 2022Leave a comment

Hello, My name is Niel and these are the ChristaPoet Freestyle Sessions. This year, ChristaPoet wants to give you a special perspective to our freestyles. At first, some of these poems were published as stand-alone pieces. But in actuality, each poem is an untitled part of a freestyle session. Each freestyle session is given a topic for the poems to address.

The first friday of the Month of May 2021, the 7th of May 2021, was that kinda day with a mighty fine topic. At 12:01pm, I announced the topic, “Opportunity Cost”.

Now, there are a few topics that left a mark in my mind for so long after they have been written on. Meet Opportunity Cost

Hanna Azubuike wrote in at 12:18pm, not a poem or spoken word…no, she wrote a little quote:

Opportunity costs constant practice of preparing for one.

It’s like that snake that eats its own tail. Not bad, I reckon. And her vibe bounced around until it 2:35 PM, Lady Nancy picked it up with the same vibe:

They say opportunity come but once
Once again I say it’s a lie
What does it cost God to create one?
And another and another?

See?

Same vibe, they both went for a flash of perfection. But behold, at 3: 30pm, I had something to say of opportunity cost:

Opportunity costs me my bed
Is this real or in my head
Like the faces behind me
BRT, ATM and NYSC

Opportunity costs you excellence
Is being sincere worth any pretence?
No?
Respecter les doses prescrites
Of course the training shows
Persons here already see the precedence

Opportunity costs us disorganization
Is that the time that you start preparation?
Everywhere within our reach,
There is an opportunity
Is this a lie?
Life cascades opportunities

And that was the first round, second round was made available at 3:53pm:

First I kissed a girl, I was drooling in my Pampers
By the time I’m paid, maybe she’ll be done with masters
Quchi told me no, Niel went and left us
Two word foods in Naija will have you moaning in tongues

EastSide till I second-yeared in the work
I watch so I do not end in the work
Operation “Depopulate Hell” in the Works
My main works say ministry, ministry works

If the sky spits me at the moon but I’m cloud-clad
So instead I land on Saturn, in a bed of pepper fumes, lost in what I had
If my straightness came with a jacket
If you never met me, would you still fall in love?
The child says, “tomorrow” like it’s not the same day.
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?
Not a good time?
Where else could you be?
Would you take a picture?
Not a good time?

Yes yes, I apologise for drifting off. At 4:34pm, Uba came to the fore:

So, I remember all the opportunities that I didn’t take
The mistakes made
The cost was time
A price too expensive to pay
But Hey, no time to dwell
Ahead ahead is the movement
This back wasn’t meant for the floor
This mind can’t be rooted to a spot
Cuz when HE plot my life’s curve it was always for the x-axis
Father Abraham’s bloodline
I’m too rich to be broke
And I’m dead to this world, his word was the kill shot
So even if I bleed anguish and pain
His blood has clot that hurt

Eremi followed through at 5:33pm with her classic quatrain stanzas of wonder. We should talk about Eremi’s writing syle oe of these days. The clarity of it, within the form of classic or textbook style poetry, makes her a pleasant surprise to read. Check this out:

“Opportunity no get price tag oh
Be careful of those
Their costs are never small
You can be so sure”
To expatiate

Opportunities, could they be like flies?
That bug when the place is messed up
And leave a few behind when the place is all clean?

Could they be like mirages
When you could only perceive them from afar
They tend to disappear when you get closer?

Could they be like fantasies?
That only come when your lids are closed
And your heart open to fantasize
Because your hands can’t seem to reach?

I dare say
Opportunities come everyday
So does distractions
Of want
Of the appearance of good
Of misplaced priorities
Or of courage unwilling to surface
And each day we trade
We barter opportunity
For what we may have tagged impunity
But please
Keep watch for when “Kairos” moments
are on display
Their costs are usually heavier
Because they are weightier

You would only know how valuable when you owned them

Woah!! Dripping awesome!!

Need I say more?
I believe that if you had read any of these poems on their own, you would get a part of the picture. Now you see them together, I think it’s a more wholesome picture. Tell us what you think, and see you next time.

Authors:
Eremi
Hanna Azubuike
Lady Nancy
U.B.A.
Niel Quchi

Man With The Mic

January 17, 2022January 17, 2022Leave a comment

I fear for the man with the microphone
He must speak that which was spoken to him
But does he listen only to speak to the crowd
Can he listen enough to listen while he speaks

I wonder at the woman with the microphone
Laid out in beautiful worship before her Lord
Does her feet still know the grounds of this world
Will this dance of transcendence translate or transform

I fear and I wonder at the man I could be
Microphone in hand, driven by more than I can transmit
I pray that my eyes and heart never know another Lord
That I never be left on my own with a microphone

I wonder at the people we will be, microphone in hand
Telling of his love, revealing to all what they need to hear
More than words we can describe yet we raise a sound
So I pray with the microphone in our hands only Him will be heard

Ezeonyeka Godswill
Oraegbu Philipa
(c) 2022

Broken ceramics

November 10, 2021Leave a comment

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.