WHY IS SHE YOUR CHOICE?

                      

          I don’t miss you, not anymore.  I don’t love you, not anymore the bad memories at the end have washed away the feelings. There really wasn’t any memory to look back to anyway. No special outing, no special place, nothing of yours in my house, no picture of you on my wall. We never prayed together, we never cried together. We never danced together, we never sang together.

                             You made your choice, it wasn’t me, I understand no hard feelings. I wish you no evil, I actually prayed for you. I wonder though, why her and not me? She is not as beautiful or as educated, not as knowledgeable or as good a cook. I don’t think she loves you as much as I did, is she as caring? Again I ask, why her and not me.

                            I look into your eyes and all I can see is love, joy and excitement such as I have never seen before. With me you were cold, reserved even forlorn, but here you are, so happy and contented. You never introduced me as your date but here you are literarily shouting to the world that she is yours, why her and not me.

                         I look into your eyes I see your love for her I see you smile at her like you never did for me, I see you play with her like u never did with me,  what makes her different from me? You respect her independence yet you call me stubborn. You will buy the world for her if you can yet you weren’t generous to me. What makes her different from me?

              You said you weren’t ready to settle down , you said you have things you need to sort out first but when you met her, all you could think of is forever with her.  Today, you made her yours for better or worse, your happiness is obvious for the world to see. You are the most unromantic man I have ever met, yet you made an effort to write a poem for her.  I heard you took her to the movies!!! Wow! You don’t have time to watch a movie remember? Well, that’s what you told me even though it was in the comfort of your house.

Well, it’s over and done with but I can’t help but wonder, why her and not me.

       Unanswered questions of a jilted woman

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST pt1

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST pt1:                                                       So similar it was scary at first, later, it seemed like a second chance to make it...

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST 2

Bimbethy's expressions: ODE TO THE FIRST 2:                 The dust from the first settled and the crack in the floor bed was clearly seen, it was understandable and the events ...

ODE TO THE FIRST 2

       

        The dust from the first settled and the crack in the floor bed was clearly seen, it was understandable and the events brought out new meaning. Lessons were learnt and the progression seemed favorable, blame was accepted and the dice was thrown it came to rest in the proper/best hand.  The vow was made never to wear the dirty cloths again and all seem at rest.

      

                     Then out of the blue in the most unlikely place a diamond was found. It seemed so surreal like an illusion created by the mind. A prize gleaming like a shining star standing apart in a galaxy of its own untouched by the muck where it was seen. Warm to the eyes though cold to the touch, the reason was known and it was understandable. Fantasies reigned, imagination ran haywire. The frozen lake melted, the heart skipped like a gazelle, it looks like home. 

         Efforts were put in place to understand how best to handled the diamond, though cold to the touch but the task to polish it till shone was taken with gladness, it seemed doable. Alas! emotion takes over, the dam broke and the ship could not stay afloat or head to the berth.

                   It hit with the force not so surprising but painful all the same. So many questions never asked. So many things never known, the cocoon was opened, left in the cold to shiver. It seemed impossible at first but as the hours increases the reality became clearer. Too effortless therefore it has no value or so it seem. Just like the first, easily forgotten. Though unlike the first, no obvious faults except for reckless abandon and lack of good judgment.

              Definitely more than the ordinary, not in a fancy package but a walk through the aisle of a super market shows that its being noticed, available, desirable yet still on the shelve. The cosmos seem to be involved in an abyss of conspiracy so deep.  The clock tick tock tick tock away down the hall, a companion to the resounding silence that followed.

    The first was a near miss, focused but unsure, understanding dawn too late, the zodiac sign an indicator, Cancer believed u will stay if truly wanted. It would have been perfect, like looking at a mirror image.  Naivety struck like a fist on a cheek, emotion took over, and the warning was ignored. Ego so big it was like a hunch back. Humility ran out the door, pride took over. Oh! What a path to trek. The second was a mystery, so many unknown parameters, how will the equation be solved?

       So all that remain are memories so few it could be counted on one hand. The curtain came down the drama all but forgotten, or not?  Standing in the cold on a lone street, scared of anyone coming from the horizon, who will it be? A good Samaritan or a robber?

             The chronicle for when the cloud clears and the time tells on the memory. Wrapped to be unveiled later, with an attempt to decipher the thoughts and feeling behind the words.

A page in the memoir.

ODE TO THE FIRST pt1

              

                                       So similar it was scary at first, later, it seemed like a second chance to make it right. So right at first it was unbelievable, later, it was unbelievable. So sweet at first it was all there ever was, so true it brought the desired rest.  So perfect at first it seemed like it was predestined, later, could it be divine? In retrospect it seemed foolish to thread the same path and expect a different result, but the gift came in a different package.

                    

                                          The wound wide and open, festering and painful, the timing so wrong it’s beyond reasoning. The building tumbling down when it should be getting to the completion stage, the reality so terrible it should have been anticipated but was not. History repeated itself so exact it was scary at first, later it seem predestined.

                           

                                           Looking into the mist, the morning dew drenching, the cold biting like the worst Harmattan ever experienced. Hunger far more than expected, cloud so thick it’s like the heaven is about to burst open. Dreams made new meaning, words takes up life of its own, the siren has been blowing from down the street yet the road was crossed with reckless abandon.

                             

                                          Out with the old in with the new, the favorite track placed on repeat, standing in front of the mirror looking at the swollen face, no hiding what the eyes can see, no denying what the hand can touch. Questions run through the mind like a torrential rain, and like a driver on a lonely road the scenery became a companion whether scenic or not.

                    

                                        Wandering down the lane of memory town looking into the window of houses used to be occupied or visited, wondering why caution was yet again thrown into the wind, wondering why the cinema house had to feature the movie again. Wondering why the ticket was bought even when memory prickled that the title was familiar. Wondering about the time gone by when there was a lot to do. Wondering why the latter always get worse than the former.

              

                                      The scream tearing the hall without being heard the sound echoing through the wall of the mind. The silence so loud it’s deafening. Standing at the door way looking into the dark night, the morning seem so far away all sense of timing lost. How did it come to this. How did it come to this. How did it ever come to this. Why was the rules not followed, why the fall into the pit standing on the road well trodden.  

When the bough breaks………………………

         

                             The chronicle for when the cloud clears and the time tells on the memory. Wrapped to be unveiled later, with an attempt to decipher the thoughts and feeling behind the words.

A page in the memoir.

 To be continued..................

“I MUST NOT ENDURE THE PAINS IN NIGERIA AND GO TO HELL”

                                 “I MUST NOT ENDURE THE PAINS IN NIGERIA AND GO TO HELL”

                     I love Nigeria as a country, diverse in tribes, cultures and languages yet we are still together. Meaningful and melodious national anthem, lovely national colour, great weather and climatic condition in general. A GREAT PLACE TO BE (IF ALLOWED TO BE AS GOD WANTED IT).Our level of endurance is more than words can express. Less than what we are experiencing here in our fatherland happened in other countries and they almost annihilate themselves through civil wars and general unrest. Liberia, Rwanda, Sudan, Libya, Uganda (all in Africa) etc tells the story.

                      Boko Haram attack has become a familiar thing; kidnapping is now acceptable in some quarters as a means of making ends meet. Ritualists are not left behind and cannibalism too is now trending in some areas. Bribery and Corruption is seen as the norm, there is no single aspect of live in Nigeria that is free from negativity. Even religion has a fair share in the monstrosity called evil that permeates all areas of society.

                    Right from birth to the day the last breath is drawn, you struggle on a daily basis to be a success. Going to school is an ordeal, right from the elementary level to the tertiary level. Being brilliant and studious is not a guarantee of success. There is a popular saying that he who passes an exam is regarded as the brilliant one. Most tertiary institutions are operating the policy of “no money no good grades” the least person in the class may become the first to get a great job “no be who u sabi?” Nigeria, a country where the end justifies the means!!!

                   The house of God has been turn to a society gathering, the more u contribute the more u are recognized. It doesn’t matter whether God recognizes u in heaven as a child as long as the pastor/reverend/Bishop recognizes you. Being a worker in church is now seen as an evidence of been born again. Some people can go to church every day for ten years but cannot pay the school fee of an orphan for one term though they can afford to give a pastor part of their salary monthly. Mind you I am not saying it’s wrong to work in the house of God or give to His servant, but are you doing the right thing for the right purpose? Fraudulent activities and corruption can now be explained away as long as you pay the tithe. Hmmmmn God is watching in high definition (3HD).

                       Sexual immoralities are seen as the ‘in’ thing, if you are not having sex outside marriage, u are regarded as dull or not “tap’.  Nudity and pornography is acceptable to most people, easy access to the internet has become a tool for Nigerians both old and young to do perverse things, social networks is now an opportunity to cheat on partners (both emotionally and physically). The anonymity some social networks afford encourages perverse desires and fantasies to play out. 

                      But a question we need to ask ourselves now is that, after all the struggles, unfairness, losses, disappointments, setbacks and failures, would it not be a shamed to end up in hell?

LIVE RIGHT TODAY, DO WHAT IS RIGHT AND TOUCH A LIVE POSITIVELY, HOWEVER YOU CAN. Shalom.

Its well with our soul

                                   IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL

         I love hymns so much, not because I was born in the Anglican Church or that my grandfather was a Reverend but because hymns are melodious, deep and inspiring. It gives u a kind of a preview to what it’s like in heaven. My best worship and praise songs are hymns, no wonder I have hymn books both in English and Yoruba. We sing these songs without knowing the story or inspiration behind the compositions.

         One of the most emotional and soul lifting hymn of all times is the hymn ALL WILL BE WELL, composed by Horatio Spafford (Oct 20 1820-Oct 16 1888). He was a prominent lawyer in Chicago; he composed this song after a great tragedy in which he lost four of his daughters. Can you imagine such a man still having a great hope and trust in God?

         Horatio spafford married Hannah spafford on sept 5 1861 in Chicago. The Spaffords began their tragic experiences with the death of their only son from scarlet fever at the age of four in 1870; they lost all of their investment in real estate to the great Chicago fire of 1871. Then the biggest trial! In 1873, Spafford decided that his family should go to England for a holiday; he couldn’t go with them due to some business engagements so he sent his wife and four daughters ahead with the plan to join them later.  11 year old Anna,

9yr old Margaret Lee, 5yr old Elizabeth, 2yr old Tanetta all perished in the tragedy.

        “On November 22, 1873, while crossing the Atlantic on the steamship Ville du Havre, their ship was struck by an iron sailing vessel and 226 people lost their lives including all four of spafford’s daughters. Hanna Spafford survived the tragedy” Wikipedia     

        Horatio wrote the song on his way to England to meet the wife after receiving a telegram from her. “Survived alone”. The couple later gave birth to three more children.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot thou has thought me to say

Its well it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:

It is well (it is well)

With my soul (with my soul)

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though satan buffet,

Though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my

Helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious

Thought!

My sin not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the lord, praise the lord, o

My soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ

Hence to live

If Jordan above me shall roll

No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,

Thou wilt whisper thy peace to my soul.

But Lord ‘tis for thee, for thy

Coming we wait

The sky not the grave, is our goal

Oh trump of the angel! Oh, voice

Of the Lord!

Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul

And Lord, haste the day when my

Faith shall be sight,

 The clouds be rolled back as a scroll

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it’s well with my soul.

 

                 So people of God, even in this dark time in our country and some individual lives, let’s have faith in God that all is well. What other choice do we have anyway. May God almighty give us the strenght and enablement to trust in Him at all times. Shalom.