Through tears and Smiles

What happens when,
What happens when to try to speak
But the words get stuck in your throat,

What do you do,
When though you have forgiven
Still you still mess things up.

How do you find
The right words to convey your feelings,
The right gestures that wholly convey your emotions;

I sit, I rise
I speak then fall silent
Because each emotion laden word redolent of the silent years
And the numerous tears
Is misunderstood and promptly tossed aside by you.

Speak you tell me,
Open your heart to me, you plead
Then I do and you don’t like what you see,
So in a bid to cope,
You make me eat my words

Well, I have henceforth decided
That come everything and anything
I will love you
Though you never know
how much you have hurt me
I will love you
Treat you right,
Through tears and smiles.


Fiction Vs Fact

Books and movies are not like real life. In death for instance, especially those long, slow deaths which are choreographed to perfection, there is an other worldliness about them. That’s why they are fiction anyway.
I think we all want fiction to be real which can never happen. Do u notice how the curtain rises in the middle of the character’s life? In real life, its more complicated. The characters are more complicated, messy and most importantly, without scripts. So a cancer patient won’t write a letter to their living loved ones, an Alzheimer’s patient won’t have a book to record their story before they lose their memory.
I don’t know what to say anymore… Well, I do know but I think I’ve made my point

Forever and a day

Pain demands to be felt. This statement is not mine but those who have seen The Fault In Our Stars would thoroughly appreciate it. I have over the course of this year been privileged to feel pain of varying degrees, in different cloaks with different aliases but having the same original name- pain. So Forever and a day is a puny attempt at eulogizing a great woman who I had the privilege of knowing.

I am not a very good writer
If I were,
I’d write a piece that would remain
Forever etched in the memory of readers

I am not a very good singer
If I were,
I’d sing a song so full of heart and soul
That listeners would be compelled by its beauty

I’m not a very good painter
If I were,
I’d paint a timeless piece
That in it the world would see you as I see

I’m not a very good speaker
If I were,
I swear I’d eulogize you so beautifully
That in life and death, you would know how wonderful you made the world

I’m not a very good cook
If I were,
I’d have cooked you those Igbo soups you always teased me with
That when you ate it, you’d feel my love

I’m not a very good person
If I were,
I’d have been around more
Giving you much love along with your children
That you’d see me as your daughter as I see you as a mother

You brought joy, you brought grace
You exemplified love
The epitome of giving
You left the show in the middle of the play
The curtains fell,
The light dimmed
We were all left wondering
But I know,
I’ll see you again
We all will
And then there’ll be no pain for you
We’ll all be together
Forever and a day

The Untold Tale

I tell of cities past,
Of fear and neglect,
Of blood and gore
Of lives wasted

I tell of cities present,
Of joys and sorrows,
Of hope for tomorrow,
Of faith and love transient

I tell of cities future,
Of grace and mercy,
Of bright, shining lights,
Of beauty unseen and untold


What do you do when you love so hard and deep,
What do you say when you have a pressure in your chest that doesn’t leave,
Doesn’t budge, try as you might, doesn’t release no matter how many deep breaths you take,
Where do u go to mend your broken heart,
How do you resuscitate yourself when your heart stops beating?

You try as you might to keep moving, to keep going, stay focused on what’s important.
And you do, you delude yourself into thinking you are making progress, have reached the end of the pain and maybe everything is alright in the world again.
Suddenly, you are blindsided. The pain, you thought you left behind hits you like a stray basketball headed for the net which hits your head and in those first few seconds you are stunned, speechless. Then the pain begins all over, from the head radiating throughout your body aching in places you didn’t even realize you had.
Hey, I’ve lost my train of thought. Was I talking about pain or basketball?

If you are like me, you like to fixate on the pain in those first crucial minutes. You dress it up, feed it, clothe it and care for it and ensure its survival because you may have deluded yourself into thinking you probably didn’t care as much as you thought since there’s no much evidence and besides your guilty conscience won’t let you off the hook that easy. Never mind that you may or may not be the one at fault. Okay, I have veered off again. Back to my rant: All the while not realizing that you are of the buildup kind. You know, the basketball metaphor of pain.

Do you know pain and its siblings: hurt, sadness and their distant cousin anger. Those four feelings like huge bullies block the road as you are minding your business carrying your lunch box without a care in the world going where the wind takes you. They beat you, strip you of your lunch, your money, your books and shit they don’t even use like your hairpin and leave you stranded on the dusty path all the while wondering why you didn’t take the main road like your mother said while the other part of you is just grateful for life and breath.

Have you seen pain and its siblings: disgust, despair and its distant cousin: confusion. No matter how much you think you know, you still don’t. No matter how well you have it figured out, it’s still a mystery like that annoying last line of the Rubik’s cube that refuses to align except to those exceptional talent. In your disgust and confusion you angrily destroy the cube and a splinter enters your eye. Shock, fear and misery and rolled in one hits you like heavy rain falling while the sun is high. Oh my God! Oh my God!! Oh my God!!! My eye! I hope I have not blinded myself in my stupidity… I can’t write anything anymore obviously, I can’t see…

To Be or Not To Be

To be or not to be
That is the question
To be rich and famous
Satisfied with life’s jewels
Fattened by the freedom
The freedom to choose
The freedom to be.

To be or not to be
That is the question
Not to be apathetic
Going through life unfeeling
Inconsiderate of hearts broken
Sadness lurking in the shadows
Hasty retreats of people
Those too scared to make the first move

To be or not to be
That is the question
To be what
To be who
Not to be
A dislodged flower billowing in the wind
Or an ignorant Buffoon dancing in the dark
Oblivious to a large hole just ahead

To be or not to be
That is the question
To be all I can be
Mindless of the odds
Tenacious despite challenges
Persevering through it all
As I am inexcusable
Not to be who be who I really am


Just for today,
I will not worry,
Because it sure won’t change my situation.
Just for today,
I’ll work hard and be effective,
Because I may not be here tomorrow.
Just for today,
I’ll appreciate the scenery,
Blue skies, starry nights,
Because tomorrow may be stormy and gray.
Just for today,
I’ll let my hair down,
Blowing in the wind,
Put my hands up and dance,
Because I can.
Just for today,
I’ll not let anyone pull me down,
No trouble breaking my stride,
Because strength is in high demand.
Just for today,
I’ll keep fighting,
Get back up,
Having faith and believing,
Because today is time’s most precious gift.

Who We Are

Perfectly imperfect
Securely insecure
Wisely imprudent
Lovingly loathed
Diplomatically forthright

Lookee here honey
You can’t be all you wanna
You can walk but not fly
You can read but not sing
You can fly but not soar

Do what I think is best for you
Be whatever you want to be
Just don’t not different
Don’t terrify the villagers
For who knows what they will do

Stay in the region I created
Don’t stray from tradition
Walk in the accepted path
Don’t dare to be a rebel
For rebellions were born to be squashed

Don’t you remember
Humans are individuals
Distinct, unique,
Each with their special qualities
Individuals with choices

Mistakes are made
Chances taken
Choices made
Rising and falling
Bringing beauty from ashes
Its what makes us who we are.


How wonderful,
I find you in my world,
Before you,
My life was bleak,
A dark mask of nothing,
With no end in sight

I see you,
A beacon in darkness,
A flood of light,
Bringing life and hope
I hold on to you,
And in that moment,
I feel a slice of heaven

Bury me not in the lonely prairie,
Sing me a song of love,
Help me see,
And once again believe,
In liberty and freedom,
In the promise of tomorrow.

Récit II

Each relationship is different. Everyone of them have their peculiarities. I know this because I am in what you might call an abusive relationship. I call it fighting for what I have. What relationship doesn’t have ups and downs? Where were you when the going was good? Do you expect me to run at the first sign of a little trauma. It’s easy for you to stand in your glass houses and point fingers, easy for you to say, “Bimbola, leave Mide alone, move on with your life.” Where were you when Mide took care of me during the miscarriages? He was such a tender, attentive husband. You don’t know. All you see are the scars. Scars I tried so hard to hide from you. I hold on to those moments when am in the hospital from the last punishment he gives me. I’d try harder not to enrage him again. If I am not the stubborn one, he’d be more loving, attentive and his bursts of anger would be fewer and far between…


Pow! Pow! Pow! So you think you are so smart, eh? Wham! Wham! Wham! I’ll show you what it is to be a man in this house… Ahhhhhhhh! I screamed as Mide changed his weapon from hands to legs… Mide!!! Yeaa….. The baby, please…. dont…. my belly… ohhh… am sorry, yeeeeaaaa……
What are you sorry for? He asked  as he used his heavy belt on my stomach and back, as i try to eacape his belt in a last ditch effort to save my baby. You this crazy, ugly, good for nothing woman, I don’t know why I married you… He finally catches up to me, tackles me and rains blows to my belly, how am I sure it’s mine, eh? You lying slut, I told you not to talk to other men when I am not there. Wham! He slaps me over and over. Is it because I took you to the function. Pow! I’ll show you today… His weight is pressing on me as he sits on me punching and slapping. I begin to feel something warm and sticky flowing down my legs which I guess is blood in my haze of pain. This is the third baby I have lost due to Mide’s flashes of rage so you can say I have gained some form of experience.  I quit begging Mide for mercy as that’s not gonna happen soon and simply wait for the beating to stop. I love my husband, it’s all my fault, I chant to myself as I slip into unconsciousness. to be continued…