Skip to main content

IF WISDOM HAD A SMELL (A POEM)

If wisdom had a smell It would smell of old books Passed down from generation to generation Revealing the truths about the enigma called time. The truths which cannot be purchased Even by the highest bidder. That smell that unveils the arduous work of writers Known and unknown. That smell that reveals family trees of readers Seen and unseen. That smell that conquers ignorance Once knowledge is sought. If wisdom had a smell It would smell like an old, well-read copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin Revealing the evil behind the thoughts and actions of slavery. That smell that encompasses sacrifice. That smell that brings words and characters to life. That smell that raises positive movements that will In time, save humankind. If wisdom had a smell It would smell of old wrappers Worn by mothers and even fathers, Instinctively used to wipe the tears Of their children away, Used with love to cover them from the rain or sun. Oh, the smell of that long piece of fabric With drawings of horses, stars,...
10 comments

HOW TOUGH IS YOUR TIME?

 

HOW TOUGH IS YOUR TIME?

 Look up the definitions of pressure, stress, toughness, challenge, hardship. Yes, these are not mere words; they are situations we face as humans in a world where time gives no hoot about what you are going through. It keeps moving like an endless train with many passengers confused about the next stop or the condition of the engine, or the longevity of the journey.

 The world faces its problems. Countries fight their wars; continents battle their evils. States wrestle their fears, and it goes down to the individual. A woman fights just as a man does his demons. They come in the form of psychological traumas, financial hardships, career blocks, relationship ghosts and all sorts of whats and hows and when and who and where.

 

In my father’s time, the challenge was having values. In my time, it is acquiring wealth or being successful. In the future, it might be visiting Mars like it was a stone throw. Who knows? Still, time is having a smoke while we all harden or soften up to our problems. How tough is your time? Is the minute hand too slow for you? Is the second hand too fast, or the hour hand too short?

 How tough is your time? It is either you are struggling to go through school. You are searching for a job. You need a husband, wife, child, sound health or visa. You want an increase in salary or for your business to flourish. How tough is your time? I think my time does not move as slowly or fast as yours. I think that when I am asleep, you might be awake, so don’t expect the same cock that crows for me to do the same for you. I think that your strides are longer than mine because you are taller. I think that the storm in my house might be a drizzle in yours. So, why should you need a boat?

 Nobody’s time is the toughest. Nobody’s day is more than 24hours. And so does nobody’s hard times last a lifetime. If we can battle the drowning periods together, we’ll walk on the waters as Jesus did. If we can give a hug to a sorrowful soul, we’ll have wings big enough to fly as high as we want to. If we are concerned about the smiles we can put on people’s faces, we wouldn’t need makeup to give us bright faces. How hard can your time be?

 

 I saw that little boy under a thunderstorm, with torn clothes and feet with no shoes. He appeared as one in a castle, waiting for his servants to attend to his needs until the sound of thunder jerked him to his harsh reality. He looked at the long line of cars stuck due to a problematic vehicle up ahead. He looked away to the hawkers trying to win buyers. He looked at the eatery beside him and slowly resolved to sit on the wet floor with eyes filled with tears being washed away by the rain. How tough his time is. No one is interested in giving a helping hand especially when it is pouring like crazy. Painful sights are too rampant these days; they are like the routine of a church service. Once the preaching is over, the grace is shared; everyone heads home. This boy is preaching to everyone who sees him but we are all waiting for one thing or the other to end the service. For me, I was waiting for the groundnut seller to hand over my change so I could settle the conductor and head home broke, with my groundnut and bread waiting to serve as my dinner. You could say my time is tough too.

 In conclusion, if you have good health, be glad. If you have had a meal today, be grateful. If you have a roof over your head, be thankful. If you have a source of income, oh blessed are you. If you have good people around you, what more do you need? Still, these are hard times. Not a handful of people can boast of having the stated luxuries of life. There are many wicked people around these days. Although, we all see ourselves as good Samaritans until we hear a neighbour praying against our wickedness in the middle of the night. Or, people laying curses upon you for being a terrible leader. Or your congregation calling you a thief for taxing them too often. Or that little boy cursing the country he was born in. It goes on and on but, in the end, our tough times will eventually fade away!

 If you have read, share so someone’s hard times can be softened a little and don’t forget to be honest.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IF HAIR COULD TALK

  “You know, I get nervous by the sight of unkempt hair” “And why’s that?” “Well, it makes me imagine the worst of the man or woman in question.” “But you can’t always have clean cut or well-made hair. It’s hard work and who has time for such beauty strife. Or why do you think Beyonce sang that beauty hurts?” “I’m not talking about beauty. Rather I mean responsibility. Bad hair must surely birth a bad day. Look, I hate seeing my wife without her hair done or at least covered. I blame it on Medusa. Should have never seen that movie, T he Clash of the Titans .” “Hahaha, that’s just cracking! Now you blame your sick theory on a movie? Buddy, your wife must be tolerating a whole lot of shit from you. Cut her some slack and leave her hair alone. If you continue shaving yours all the time, you’d be bald before you’re even 40, man.” I’ve been thinking. A thousand tongues there would be if our hair could talk. Imagine, a million heads would have a zillion tongues and more! The ...
17 comments
Read more

MAKEOVER

  When she realized her hair was gone, the barber had increased the volume of his radio and India Arie’s ‘I am not my hair’ filled the room. ‘If I can manage the situation like a professional, my construction contract with her father will hold tomorrow,’ I thought. I breathe in and out, a logic that never works for me, but I do it anyway. I rehearse my words, changing each sound to a softer version of the previous one - aligning my looks to the words so that my eyes become half closed and there is a faint smile on my face. I wait for the explosion. All the while, the barber is busy touching what is left on her head with his clipper. He says it is the final addition and calls it the moon look. He fumbles with the chair, turning Stella from left to right like a child’s play. The large mirror in front of us escalates the mishap and the fumes on my girlfriend’s face seem to be burning the white walls. It was meant to be a makeover since her 25 th birthday was the next day. Now it...
7 comments
Read more

MORALITY IN TRANSIT

It was a cool, quiet evening—one of those rare days when the city seemed to exhale. I boarded the bus home from work, grateful for the unusual calm. The vehicle was only half-full, a welcome contrast to the usual chaos of rush hour. The driver was sealed off in his little cubicle up front, and we passengers were scattered like leaves on a still pond. Among them was a man who immediately caught my eye—late 60s, wearing a crisp white cap that read ' Chosen One' in bold black letters. He was flipping through a newspaper with such frantic energy it looked like he was searching for something long lost—or perhaps arguing with the headlines themselves. Opposite him sat another older man, though you wouldn't know it from his clothes. He was dressed like a teenager—like someone clinging to relevance with both hands. Then, out of nowhere, the man in the cap spoke, loud and clear, as if addressing a courtroom rather than a quiet bus. 'Does time determine what's right or wrong...
24 comments
Read more