@Scarville’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Jenim’s letter.

Hang in there.

Jenim's Letter

Jenim’s Letter

My child, my child
Welcome to a world I was welcomed to
What seems not so far long ago
When the air was not eerie
And life was placid and not so scary
Of course I lie, what is now is what has been
All you see, the sun hath seen
The air is tense and always dense
And life is acid, it makes no sense
But I know of one I met while I yet lived
And came to know and came to grow
To love forevermore
One from whom emerged branches
Branches loved differently by different souls
And has his roots deep in the human spirit
One inspired by the muses or of God himself
One that had the power to make a grown man weep
(I’m a woman, I wept a fountain)
And a new-born dance
One filled with words which are as shallow as a stream
Or as deep as the Pacific on a rainy night
One whose end calls for an encore
I met him as a child and it indeed was love at sight
For the rest of my days I sought for depth
In him was character no one could touch
Loved by all yet none could touch
He speaks aloud with lots of words
Silently moulding the lives of them which heard
I can only try and fail to explain to you
The joy that fills my heart when I listen to a song I love
Or when I fall in love with a song for the first time
The urge I feel to see the song again and again and only again
His words or his rhythm
Music is my only love
If one could plant a grin upon my face
Or put a grey upon my days
Or weave pain through my heart
It was music, it was music on any day
I watched in adoration as a hundred thousand people
Sang while the musician stopped singing and watched them sing his song
He laughs in joy for the song he wrote had changed lives
I smiled at the hope that music transferred to those in pain
I wondered at the most powerful creation
That had such an impact on the soul of man
How a frog needed not the eloquent voice of music
To have a song in his heart
The power it has over the feet of men
Oh, to sway and lift mortals off the ground
To neutralize the acidity of life
One that could make you high on a bridge
And depresses you at the refrain
Which modulates your emotions as the waves of the ocean
Mouths that can’t talk explain with music
Hearts that can’t beat say so in songs
In all you do, never disparage the branch a man loves
Love yours and always carry a song in your heart
Go for his lyrics, they’ll increase your depth
The rhythm is important, more so for the shallow
Guard your heart, music has his yin
Yes his darkness, which darkens the hearts of men
What more can I say of that I love
More than the air I breathe
The string instruments will melt a heart of stone
If you meet a boy that plays the violin, marry him
Oh, I kid, take me not seriously on that last line
But do marry him by all means necessary
The acoustic guitar, the piano I love too
The drums that beat the beating heart
The harp, the flute, the sax, the mute
Doth play, music hath no inhibition
I’ve loved a few, a few have loved back
But when the wind it blew, it blew both loves away
And memories are all that’s left
Music was with me before I loved
And picked my heart from the floor
And with the hand of time healed it more
The secret chord that David played
That pleased God and king him made
On the wings of music I talk to God
As Moses did, face to face, heart to heart
The children’s flaw hath made them bound
Their captors required of them a song
God’s own children could not sing his song in a strange land
What indeed is in a song
That frees the slave with amazing grace
On days of angst, music reminds me I’m not alone
What’s a song but a heart that’s dancing through the mouth
And when the mouth be dumb
The heart it dances through the feet
And when the feet be numb
The heart it dances through the ears
And when the hearing’s gone
And it seems that sound can no more be born
And music can no more be heard
And he who hears not wishes he were dead
God creates a man to show the world
What music seems and what music means
He named him Ludwig Van Beethoven
He who once heard but one day heard no more
And when this acid of life was poured upon his face
He wished to see his days end before his day
But when hope hath walked to him
And shook his hand and sat with him
He composed his Ninth Symphony
With his heart’s melody
And when the performance was done
He with his back to the crowd
Heard not the thundering applause of the audience
That gave him reverence
Till he was turned, and began to weep
And he which heard not changed the century in which he lived
Music is faith, that tells you light up, even if you cannot hear my voice I’ll be right beside you dear
Music is hope, that tells you if everything we got is fading away, we’ve a rock in a Rock till our dying day
Music is a voice, when he declares: questions of science, science and progress do not speak as loud as my heart
Music is a friend, especially to the lonely, he says I’m holding onto you holding on to me, maybe its all we’ve got but its all I need
Music is spiritual, that transcendental breeze between mortality and deity
Music is healing, he whispers, tears stream down your face when you lose something you cannot replace but I will try to fix you
Music is sublime, as water is to the body so is music to the soul
Music is peace, it lays the soul at war upon lake placid to take a nap
Above all, my child, music is life alive
Before you took your first breath it was
After you take your last it’ll be
But do not dare take that deep, sorrowful last breath my child
Without letting the world hear your song by the life you’ve lived.

• • •


N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with Aw3L3’s letter.

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

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