Hello people. Its a new year and things will be very interesting and God willing, I intend to approach each day with a spring in my step and a view to overcome.
Here's the sequel to my story about hair. This is a true story as it happened to me. Those who know me from childhood would recorgnise the name, though some other names have been slightly changed. My grandmother sadly no longer is with us but she made peace with my mother especially after my father passed away and my mum still kept on taking care of her, she hadn't expected it! Yes, she had been very very mean.
And I must give accolade to Omozo, who edited the original script to fit O'Naturals mode. I'm certain, you will agree with me that she did a mighty fine job.
All in all, Happy New Year! and if you're Nigerian, please join the protest, what our leaders are doing to our country and our people is wrong and unacceptable. Its time for things to change (as they say in church language- Power Must Change Hands!
God bless
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label forgiveness. Show all posts
Monday, 9 January 2012
Friday, 23 December 2011
For Melissa Hasbrook
It was a simple way we met, Melissa and myself. It was a poetry gig in Wigan. We both performed and somehow, someone introduced us and we started talking and I invited her to come stay at my flat and she accepted. I remember apologising profusely about the dingyness of the flat and she graciously told me it was a good flat.
She told me about her life and I shared mine and she told me of her history and I told her of mine and we chatted late into the night and the next day. I was sad to see her go, this new friend of mine. Imagine! A child of American Indian descent and I a mixed hesistant child of Dahomey and Yoruba origin. Light and dark, smooth and dred, and it didn't matter , for when we spoke, we were children of a common note-earth.
So the bond was forged and she inspired me with her pictures and my poetry of them and she wrote constantly to praise my faltering voice, reassuring me that I had something to say and ears listened. And I confirmed her of a soft bed and lighted heart whenever she came. And as the father watched from the castletop for his son, so I watched for her return.
She returned some months ago and light filled my room but the darkness of my pain formed a shadow which muted my joy, however, she used her light to pierce a hole through and left. Encouraging me to tear further and step back into the light I once danced in. Slowly, I listened for the drumbeat and gingerly lifted my feet, arched to descend in dance. I am dancing now, arms akimbo, head roll-tating in time with the percussion gong, feet laughing along with the gongo as rhythmn slithers up and down my back arching it with esctasy.
Melissa, sister in light, here is this for you.
For Melissa
With a harsh toll, I was awakened
to a new journey removing from self-pity.
Your parcel placed in my hand received with
false cheer from the postman.
Puzzled. I sat on my bed, smiling at memory
wondering what you laid beneath.
Bubblewrap. My childish piqued, till I opened
my epiphany.
Frien. I cried when I saw the prints of life
briefly shared to my excitement.
Realising how much I missed; a heart
who loves, receives me without judgement
I felt ashamed and cried some more.
Salt, tobacco, sage, (juniper?)
You brought healing in a bowl
I let it sit on my table; afraid of what
I did not know.
I confess, I let fear dictate my departure
from Mother Earth, letting her sit,
forlorn, in a blue bowl. Till,
you left and I, apologetic, asked her
forgiveness as I threw your gift on her face.
Friend. Sister. Dear friend.
Forgive my apprehension; I am
a creature of bad habits.
Skin conditioned to prickle at things unknown.
You, a constant voice of praise of my
episodic verse; my inspiration
by Platt’s grave; a visit of different cultures
in a bedsit diverged of prejudice; a light
inviting flickers of hesitation into a
secure knowledge.
I am born again. Tears washing
away the pities of a new age. Lights
like yours confirming again.
God is Love.
She told me about her life and I shared mine and she told me of her history and I told her of mine and we chatted late into the night and the next day. I was sad to see her go, this new friend of mine. Imagine! A child of American Indian descent and I a mixed hesistant child of Dahomey and Yoruba origin. Light and dark, smooth and dred, and it didn't matter , for when we spoke, we were children of a common note-earth.
So the bond was forged and she inspired me with her pictures and my poetry of them and she wrote constantly to praise my faltering voice, reassuring me that I had something to say and ears listened. And I confirmed her of a soft bed and lighted heart whenever she came. And as the father watched from the castletop for his son, so I watched for her return.
She returned some months ago and light filled my room but the darkness of my pain formed a shadow which muted my joy, however, she used her light to pierce a hole through and left. Encouraging me to tear further and step back into the light I once danced in. Slowly, I listened for the drumbeat and gingerly lifted my feet, arched to descend in dance. I am dancing now, arms akimbo, head roll-tating in time with the percussion gong, feet laughing along with the gongo as rhythmn slithers up and down my back arching it with esctasy.
Melissa, sister in light, here is this for you.
For Melissa
With a harsh toll, I was awakened
to a new journey removing from self-pity.
Your parcel placed in my hand received with
false cheer from the postman.
Puzzled. I sat on my bed, smiling at memory
wondering what you laid beneath.
Bubblewrap. My childish piqued, till I opened
my epiphany.
Frien. I cried when I saw the prints of life
briefly shared to my excitement.
Realising how much I missed; a heart
who loves, receives me without judgement
I felt ashamed and cried some more.
Salt, tobacco, sage, (juniper?)
You brought healing in a bowl
I let it sit on my table; afraid of what
I did not know.
I confess, I let fear dictate my departure
from Mother Earth, letting her sit,
forlorn, in a blue bowl. Till,
you left and I, apologetic, asked her
forgiveness as I threw your gift on her face.
Friend. Sister. Dear friend.
Forgive my apprehension; I am
a creature of bad habits.
Skin conditioned to prickle at things unknown.
You, a constant voice of praise of my
episodic verse; my inspiration
by Platt’s grave; a visit of different cultures
in a bedsit diverged of prejudice; a light
inviting flickers of hesitation into a
secure knowledge.
I am born again. Tears washing
away the pities of a new age. Lights
like yours confirming again.
God is Love.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
The Art of Forgiveness
Well, for those who read this jlog (a journal blog, get it) Thanks for your faithfulness and for those who just come and look at my lovely face, thanks for your whatever it is (fascination? ideas anyone?)
Earlier today I had wanted to write about how much I hated valentine and how I had never celebrated it as I always dated smart guys who picked a quarrel in January just to ensure we had split by February. Dissolving the cabinet as a friend put it.
I wanted to write about how I sent myself a valentine card at secondary school when I got fed up of everyone getting one each year and I having nothing to show for myself. I liked a guy (really, Demo, where are you?) but all my seniors liked him too and I don't have the strength to suffer for love (yeah, say what you will, I'm built like that)
I intended to eat my body weight in sweets and biscuits (I hate chocolate) and strangle anyone who gave me a pity face when I tell them I spent the day alone. I had planned to write all this, in fact I wrote it 3 times! This is my 4th attempt (I'm typing it first on Word, then cutting and pasting) Then I went to church (I can hear the hehen!, go on, I'll still speak) and as the sermon went on, I started thinking about all the men that had messed up my life either directly or indirectly, some have messed me up more than others and I realised, I still hated them, oh yes, I'm very good with the 'I'm good, lets remain friends' thing but I still hope they never find happiness and daily knock themselves for letting someone as wonderful as myself go.
Then I realised I had to let them go, really forgive, and then I could really move on and be. (As you would have guessed the service was on forgiveness and building each other up)
So I have stopped detesting, I have stopped hating, I am now forgiving and letting go.
I forgive the boy who said 'I love you' and said it to my best friend too
The one who made me cook for him, then said it tasted crude
My pardon to the one who farted and blamed it on me
The one who wouldn't wash, wouldn't brush, or simply would not flush
The one who left the toilet seat up, or messed it with paper
The one who licked the plate after lunch and slurped his water
The one whose mum didn't like me, she said I was too fat
The one who said he liked my body if only I could lose the pouch
The one who hunched, belched his lunch, rolled his hips like a girl
The one who told everyone, I liked it rough and loud and a bit cruel (not true)
The fat , the thin, the bald, the weak, the bigoted arrogant fool
The one who named my boobs but said my ass gave him no clue
The one who got married on my birthday, the one who broke up with me
The timid one who sent a text saying, 'its not you but surely not me'
The flashy one, the messy one, the stark raving sex machine
The poet, the singer, the builder, the lover, the one's who's in between
The one turned gay, the gay who played straight, the one who became a woman
The one who made me sit on his knee, play dress up, or scream out his name and
the one got my heart but had to get away
I forgive these men, all these men, give all my pain away
But this is for the next man, who comes, if you're just as messed up,
Please stay away
Ps: in case I still have injuns reading my journal, the above was meant to be a poem, not real!
Earlier today I had wanted to write about how much I hated valentine and how I had never celebrated it as I always dated smart guys who picked a quarrel in January just to ensure we had split by February. Dissolving the cabinet as a friend put it.
I wanted to write about how I sent myself a valentine card at secondary school when I got fed up of everyone getting one each year and I having nothing to show for myself. I liked a guy (really, Demo, where are you?) but all my seniors liked him too and I don't have the strength to suffer for love (yeah, say what you will, I'm built like that)
I intended to eat my body weight in sweets and biscuits (I hate chocolate) and strangle anyone who gave me a pity face when I tell them I spent the day alone. I had planned to write all this, in fact I wrote it 3 times! This is my 4th attempt (I'm typing it first on Word, then cutting and pasting) Then I went to church (I can hear the hehen!, go on, I'll still speak) and as the sermon went on, I started thinking about all the men that had messed up my life either directly or indirectly, some have messed me up more than others and I realised, I still hated them, oh yes, I'm very good with the 'I'm good, lets remain friends' thing but I still hope they never find happiness and daily knock themselves for letting someone as wonderful as myself go.
Then I realised I had to let them go, really forgive, and then I could really move on and be. (As you would have guessed the service was on forgiveness and building each other up)
So I have stopped detesting, I have stopped hating, I am now forgiving and letting go.
I forgive the boy who said 'I love you' and said it to my best friend too
The one who made me cook for him, then said it tasted crude
My pardon to the one who farted and blamed it on me
The one who wouldn't wash, wouldn't brush, or simply would not flush
The one who left the toilet seat up, or messed it with paper
The one who licked the plate after lunch and slurped his water
The one whose mum didn't like me, she said I was too fat
The one who said he liked my body if only I could lose the pouch
The one who hunched, belched his lunch, rolled his hips like a girl
The one who told everyone, I liked it rough and loud and a bit cruel (not true)
The fat , the thin, the bald, the weak, the bigoted arrogant fool
The one who named my boobs but said my ass gave him no clue
The one who got married on my birthday, the one who broke up with me
The timid one who sent a text saying, 'its not you but surely not me'
The flashy one, the messy one, the stark raving sex machine
The poet, the singer, the builder, the lover, the one's who's in between
The one turned gay, the gay who played straight, the one who became a woman
The one who made me sit on his knee, play dress up, or scream out his name and
the one got my heart but had to get away
I forgive these men, all these men, give all my pain away
But this is for the next man, who comes, if you're just as messed up,
Please stay away
Ps: in case I still have injuns reading my journal, the above was meant to be a poem, not real!
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
Sleepless in Bolton
Right now, I’m operating from a place of pain. Its 6:41am and I went to bed at 3:26am, I don’t know exactly when I dropped off but I know I was tossing for a while. Every fourth day, I get to sleep for 8 hours depending someone doesn’t called me before 9am and from then on the hours shorten until the next fourth day. (God bless the makers of Cocodamol, Tramadol, codeine and a secret one I’ve promised my GP I’ll never tell nobody). However, these things give me sleep and then after that until relief, I have to fight an exhausted body but an alert mind.
I’m hot, itchy, and sore, crouching with intermittent bursts of pain, sweaty and miserable but my mind is so clear, it’s like a mirror and I’m just thinking things.
Today I go to Liverpool to visit my cousin in a hospice, he’s there receiving palliative care for cancer and I know a lot of people in their hearts have condemned him to death but I am a woman of faith and I know deep down, its not his time.
Therefore, I’m going to see him and encourage him to hold on and believe his body into health. I am a Christian and I make no bones about it and there many things my faith runs deep on but two stand firm. One of them is healing, the other forgiveness, them two are the hardest things for many minds to fathom and accept but I believe those two well.
In my personal life, I have believed God for some kind of healing or the other and He’s always come through and forgiveness! The liberty that gives. Its true that when you forgive people, no matter what they do, you become the free one.
Forgiveness is hard especially when abuse and death are involved but there’s just something about it that liberates. I don’t agree with forgetting though and I’m sorry (Bible buffers) but I haven’t seen anywhere it’s written ‘forget’. I think things must be remembered but not held in account for they make us who we are and its like saying, forget your history, it means we’re giving it a reason to happen again. So forgive, don’t forget but don’t hold in account.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing (hey when you can’t sleep and you’re getting angry, writing works wonders!) lyrics and tunes and I’ve got me a good man who listens to these things and converts them into something I might sell to y’all someday! (Do I hear a halleluyea!) Recently, (ok, last night) I wrote something of forgiveness. I’ll share that with y’all and then go do some laundry and vacuuming (that’s when its much of daylight, I don’t want angry neighbours) the words might not mean much and then again, they might. Well here goes.
Forgive
Pain is a hurtful phrase that comes
When somebody that you love
Takes advantage.
Hurt is a painful place that burns
When your heart is played upon
By the ones you love.
Inside, you just want to curl up, die
Hoping that tide will pass and you won’t have to matter
But its not going to go away today
Slowly but another day, so you
Have to stand and fight
For the one you love the most
The one your heart holds host
You fight for you
The one that makes your days just brighter
And you forgive.
Every little pain and hurt
They have somehow given birth
To the feeling that you’re feeling
But you stand and fight
For the one you love most
The one your heart holds host
You fight for you
Its hard I know but
You just forgive.
God bless and may you have a peaceful storm. Alafia.
I’m hot, itchy, and sore, crouching with intermittent bursts of pain, sweaty and miserable but my mind is so clear, it’s like a mirror and I’m just thinking things.
Today I go to Liverpool to visit my cousin in a hospice, he’s there receiving palliative care for cancer and I know a lot of people in their hearts have condemned him to death but I am a woman of faith and I know deep down, its not his time.
Therefore, I’m going to see him and encourage him to hold on and believe his body into health. I am a Christian and I make no bones about it and there many things my faith runs deep on but two stand firm. One of them is healing, the other forgiveness, them two are the hardest things for many minds to fathom and accept but I believe those two well.
In my personal life, I have believed God for some kind of healing or the other and He’s always come through and forgiveness! The liberty that gives. Its true that when you forgive people, no matter what they do, you become the free one.
Forgiveness is hard especially when abuse and death are involved but there’s just something about it that liberates. I don’t agree with forgetting though and I’m sorry (Bible buffers) but I haven’t seen anywhere it’s written ‘forget’. I think things must be remembered but not held in account for they make us who we are and its like saying, forget your history, it means we’re giving it a reason to happen again. So forgive, don’t forget but don’t hold in account.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing (hey when you can’t sleep and you’re getting angry, writing works wonders!) lyrics and tunes and I’ve got me a good man who listens to these things and converts them into something I might sell to y’all someday! (Do I hear a halleluyea!) Recently, (ok, last night) I wrote something of forgiveness. I’ll share that with y’all and then go do some laundry and vacuuming (that’s when its much of daylight, I don’t want angry neighbours) the words might not mean much and then again, they might. Well here goes.
Forgive
Pain is a hurtful phrase that comes
When somebody that you love
Takes advantage.
Hurt is a painful place that burns
When your heart is played upon
By the ones you love.
Inside, you just want to curl up, die
Hoping that tide will pass and you won’t have to matter
But its not going to go away today
Slowly but another day, so you
Have to stand and fight
For the one you love the most
The one your heart holds host
You fight for you
The one that makes your days just brighter
And you forgive.
Every little pain and hurt
They have somehow given birth
To the feeling that you’re feeling
But you stand and fight
For the one you love most
The one your heart holds host
You fight for you
Its hard I know but
You just forgive.
God bless and may you have a peaceful storm. Alafia.
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