I just want to be normal. II

So, today we have Gbemisola, with the sequel of her short-story.

If you missed out on the yesterday’s post, you should read it here: I just want to be normal. by @Gbemisola_A before continuing with today’s post.

Enjoy.

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Pakistani weddings are so different. It all went so fast yet I went through it all in slow motion. First there was the proposal party which held at my ‘rented family’s’ house with my rented parents and siblings. Then came the engagement, I can’t even remember what happened or how it happened. After that was the Dholki, I liked this one, I got Henna all over my hands and legs and I thought it was pretty. After that was the Mehndi which I got even more Henna. Finally came the Shaadi, the wedding itself. Here I was, a young girl in her second year marrying a man who had overnight become a stranger to her and of course £500,000 richer than I was before it all. I guess this is pretty normal. I am now Mrs Vanessa Tauseef, my names don’t complement each other.
 
Now I spend most days just talking to myself in my room. ‘My husband’ hardly comes home. Spends most of his time with his true bride. The power of a British passport. Shahid Tauseef never loved me, he never even liked me, but he needed me, he needed me so desperately, I was the gateway to a better British life. I thought I was more to him but I was merely a pawn in his large game of chess. I was the ticket for his family and bride to come into the UK and be citizens as well. I would never forget the day he texted me to come out, I never should have gone, I remember clearly the words he said to me as we sat on the bench just outside my apartment building. “Vanessa, I know you care for me, and I need a favour. My student visa would run out and I have not been using it, I have been working, I need you to marry me so I can stay in the country, I know you’re a citizen and I know you care for me that much, you can’t afford to see me go, do you really want to lose me?’. I was so naive, so gullible, I saw the pain in his eyes and I was so utterly in love with this normal man that I agreed to do it. I didn’t want the money but his father insisted. It is a lot of money, I just couldn’t say no.
 
It’s been almost a year now, sadly the rules have changed in the UK, not only do you have to have proof of the whole marriage shenanigans, you also have to remain married for at least 10 years, remaining in the UK. ‘My husband’ wasn’t aware of all the rules but now that he knows he is terribly bitter. He carries out his anger on me, he blames me for all of it, he beats me, insults me, deprives me of dignity and altogether demeans me. The one person in my life I thought was normal was one of the most abnormal people I had ever met in my life, this was why I knew I had to do something.
 
It felt good returning all the money to Shahid’s father. It felt even better turning myself in to the police and telling them all I had done, I knew deep down somewhere in me that purchasing a gun and doing what I had in mind wouldn’t have helped me,I felt liberated and at peace this way and I could move on with my life. What I didn’t expect was ending up in the same mental clinic with my mother for severe bipolar disorder and Major depression disorder. 
 
Well here I am now, again on a search for normalcy, but what exactly is normal? Is it perfection or is it a word made up in our minds that makes us somehow part of a wider vast system, and gives us a feeling of involvement? Is it that thing that differentiates a functional family from one that isn’t? What exactly is it? I ask myself everyday. All I wanted was a mother to love, a father to look up to and a life to look forward to.
 
Well I guess I’ll never know what ‘normal’ is.
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@ezi1nne’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 Ezinne’s letter.

Hang in there.

Olamide's Letter.

Ezinne’s Letter.

My Little One,

Your arrival has been long anticipated, if by none, by me

For my bosom swells with the words I have harboured for a lifetime

I hoped to tell the story myself, but I’d rather you read

For in writing, I have poured the misery of my pent soul on a blank sheet. A clean slate. My heart’s desire.

I loved. I loved a man. He loved himself

I lost my heart. He lost himself

He was my passion. Misdirected passion is death. I died a thousand times

He was my thousand pasts, my infinite future

But he lost himself. Nowhere, just in himself

He was the cordage holding the pieces of my heart, for the heart never breaks even

He was my heart in the whole, but he lost himself

Then I was certain that I’d never understand, until it was broken. I was broken

And in gathering the fragments of me, I began to understand

That to love a man, is to love yourself

And to give love to a man, you must give love to yourself

For you cannot give what you do not have.

I amassed what was left of me, and so perceived

That man is a judge, this plague, his sense of security

The finding of fault in another, his haven

So I learnt never to compromise, for in surrendering I condemned myself

I revelled in this understanding, (for I’d be judged by my actions) as wisdom, I’d heard, is supreme

As I regained what was left of my broken womanhood, I began to understand

The need to speak and let myself be heard of the world

Not just speak, but bespeak with apprehension and timeliness

For the difference between the wise and the fool is in knowing when to speak

I understood the need to find strength, a succor for my will

To stand for what I believed in, for if you stand for nothing, you fall for everything

And then you lose respect; respect is given to the man who merits it

My helpless enervation helped me know never to trust in man

For even man cannot trust him self

And in trusting no one, never to play the fool, the need for cutesy no matter

For I have come to know and revel in the knowledge that God loves ugly

The distraction of outer beauty I abhor, as a lesson I have learned from experience

In the catacombs of my misery I revered the sweet stench of truth

To hold independence as a scythe, and hardwork as a buffer

To stay disappointments from putrid promises made by man

An ever dynamic fragment of reality, capable of showing hell and heaven in one heartbeat

And between these two realities, a negligible chasm of honesty

Which is paramount in life, for an honest man is God’s noblest handwork

Through the darkness and fear, the whispers of lingering shadows of regret

In myself I found hope, for I yet lived, though none too gloriously

I compared myself to no one for no two people have exactly the same capabilities

God is creative you know

I amassed a wealth of endurance in hardships and patience in tribulation

Revering the prize I was worth, of laughter, of life, of love.

Love

The cordage binding man to woman, woman to child, child to friend

Making foes of friends and friends of foes

I had loved and lost and loved again

With the my broken shards of misery I vowed never to let innocence make me vulnerable

For I know beasts crave the innocent, my unguarded heart, their victual

As the worldly man craves the gullible, her ignorance, his bludgeon

I learned never to betray my happiness in seeking unrequited love

For love solicits not just one’s happiness, but the welfare and contentment of the one loved

I vowed to give the love around for karma was now my companion

I knew my heart was gold and he who will earn the broken pieces

Must bear battle scars, the epitome of mine, in giving and in forgiving

I have come to discover the evil days

The days when I look in the mirror and am a stranger to myself

But my woes are well spent, for I know now, that I am a stranger to my past

For in finding these new virtues I found myself

I found the stubborn kindness in me and honed it with discipline and perseverance

For I know of wolves who take advantage of kindness, selfishness is their burden

But this couldn’t change me, only if the change wrought development

In this did I know that my fragile soul whispered at every phase

For angels that may never come, as they feared the darkness in my heart

Do not despair, this strangeness, for there is no strangeness without beauty.

My Little One, I have reproduced a refined me in you

That you may learn these and more at my feet as you will feed from my bosom

Beauty, wisdom, hardwork and the light of the mind

I picked the pieces of my heart and stood up straight

No longer afraid of the dark, no longer in shame

No longer loathe to exhibit the illuminative excellence of my mind

My mind is my beauty and beauty should be left unscarred

A scar is a memory and memories should last forever

I have loved and lost, I have built and have been broken

But despite all I come unscathed

I will love again, I will love anew

I will love. I will love you.

Your mother,
Ezinne Onyeka.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

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

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

I just want to be normal. by @Gbemisola_A

My name is Gbemi and I write short stories and not-so-short stories among many other things, I’ve been given a chance to write for Obafuntaydotcom and here’s a little something I finally found time to come up with.
Hope you like it.
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My name is Vanessa Folusaye and I believe I’m normal. To be honest I can’t exactly determine what normal really is neither can I explain it. You see, I didn’t really grow up like the rest; I didn’t have a loving father who was affectionate with his kids, neither did I have a mother who was quick to discipline or offer any sort of reprimand. I lived through complete opposites. My father had ‘tough love’, what he saw as befitting compassion was rewarding us with two single hard sweets and sometimes a pat on the head with a straight face and a look that said, you’re worth nothing to me (I think I was the only one that saw that though). No special ceremony. Nothing. I had 2 brothers, one above and one below, you would think with three kids we would at least be a conventional family. My mother on the other hand was different, she would shower us with gifts, spoil us beyond our wildest thoughts and not once would she condemn anything we did. 
 
Here I am completely disillusioned with the world in general. I don’t know about my brothers, we all got sent away to different boarding schools after my mum was diagnosed with raging Schizophrenia. We should have known, no normal human being would hug and kiss a child for breaking sliding glass doors. My father would rather have his head cut off than look after teenage children, so we had no choice, we had to separate. I wasn’t bothered, I never knew my brothers. We all had the same problem, I was convinced that boys weren’t meant to show emotions of any sort and girls were meant to be overly loving and compassionate to everything, things got worse when they became the overly compassionate ones and I became the introverted disconnected one. I was sent to a school in the UK and that was where I spent my formative years.
 
My first year in university was just as you would expect a first year in university to be. I rarely got talked to because I didn’t seem approachable, I went for classes regularly, went out when I felt like and was starting to acquire a greater sense of normalcy. Then it finally came.
 
His name was Shahid Tauseef. He was the most good-looking man I had ever seen and he was so different from my father, he was sweet and compassionate, but not as extreme as my brothers. He came up to me in the café and just sat there for a while, before I could place my thoughts together we were conversing like old friends who hadn’t seen in years. It was very refreshing and that was the moment I finally felt normal, I felt human, I felt like a girl. 
 
Shad as I called him would take me around school, around the town where our school was located, soon it was to neighboring towns and cities and then we were travelling together, seeing the world together. I had fallen for this Pakistani boy who one day decided to sit next to me. It felt so wonderful. I knew he was feeling the same way, he just had to, from the light kisses on my cheek ‘by accident’ to holding my hands when visiting the chateau de Chambord in France or pulling me close when walking through Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome.
 
I knew, or thought I knew what was coming when he asked me to meet his family. His mum kept saying how I looked the part with my fair skin and long hair with big beautiful eyes and sweet pouty lips. His dad would say I acted just right and he was glad, I never understood what they were saying, I thought they were complements. I was none the wiser.
 
On this beautiful Sunday morning, I woke up with a start as I felt my phone vibrate beside my pillow, it was a text from Shad saying I should meet him downstairs in 30 minutes. I thought this was it, he was going to ask me to date him and have a relationship.
Boy was I in for a shock…
_____________________________________________________________
Second half of this story, continues tomorrow: 4pm

 

@duchesskk’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 Karo’s letter.

Hang in there.

Karo's Letter

Karo’s Letter

A LETTER TO THE UNBORN BABY DUCHESS….

My darling daughter,

I can already tell you will light up my world. Every day I look forward to the day you will finally be in arms. You may be nameless for a few weeks after your birth because I won’t be able to find a sentence to qualify you.

First off my prayer for you is good health, seeing as you are my first child; I need you to be strong for the rest of your siblings.

I cannot wait for you to wrap your little fingers around my thumb, or bite on my nipple while I breast feed.

I’m enlivened with thoughts of your laugh or your cries, your first bicycle wound, your first fight at school, your first best friend and our first fight.

Every day I work so hard knowing that one day you and your siblings will be here, you need to have all that you need to have the kind of functional childhood your grandparents gave me. I assume that you will be a ‘mini me ‘, hopefully ten times more God fearing and five times more good looking.

As you may have noticed, your daddy is an amazing man, or we won’t be married now. I know you will be a daddy’s girl like I was and eventually when I have your brother we will have our own clique. When you finally come here you will hopefully meet me as hyperactive as I am now. So I can teach you how to play basketball and maybe squash. I won’t force you but I am sure you will be a tomboy like I was earlier, this is a good thing, you have the rest of your life to be a proper lady (it’s boring).

I can’t wait to dress you up. I look forward to watching you evolve too. I know you will be a stunner; I’m already beaming with pride. My girl, school work is a big deal, You need to do well in school, but this I say to you, If you have any positive non academic talents I will support you 100%. You are a star, don’t be self absorbed but do not ever be worried about being perfect, in our eyes you are perfect.

I can’t wait to read you stories and tell you of the great people that lived before your time. And when you see all the fruits of my labor, I will tell you stories of the great Madiba and how his life inspired me when I was less than 10 years old.

Music is huge; I cannot wait to hear the kind of music that your generation will hype. I look forward to telling you “no” when you want to go for your first party. Lol. My mum did it to me, I’m sorry girl, and I shall do the same rant all you want.

DATING: The thought of this worries me; I hope you can wait till you are 30 to have your first kiss or first boyfriend. I’m sorry I’m exaggerating but I know that like your father, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt. I must admit there are wonderful men out there, like your daddy. You may see us showing affection and being mushy all around the house, we are in love and hopefully would always be.

You would eventually be a teen, maybe a stubborn one as I was and we would fight but amidst all of this I want you to know, you are incredible. Having a child is special, I’m sure you would have yours AT THE RIGHT TIME.

I have learned so many things about life, the most important being: I am no one without God, if you understand this early enough your life will be a thousand times better than mine. Life is short, live it to the fullest, if you want something and you believe it in your heart, go for it. Baby, I know I have said all these, but do not give me a heart attack.

My pearl, you will come to notice that your mummy is a worrier; please do not pick up this habit. Live your life to the fullest, make your mistakes, grow up but please let’s never stop being best friends.

I plan to have many kids, biological and adopted but I want you to know that no matter how many kids come into our lives my love for you remains the same, undiluted. I’m sure charity will be a huge part of your life, as it is mine; I shall not force you though.

I am a non- conformist and I plan to change the world, if I mistakenly leave any stone unturned, I trust that you will turn it for me, for in you I see a better me.

I could go on and on, but I will stop here. Thanks for being a gift to me and the world. I really hope the world is ready for your awesomeness.

Love you baby.

 

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

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

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

The other side of thoughts

I have a long flight ahead of me. Pleased at the chances I will get to cut corners, I gleefully anticipate my trip to oblivion.

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They say its game over; I beg to differ, the game only just begun. Numerous opportunities still lie in our paths to concede goals and lose even more glory. Oh the joy of pessimism! Freeing you from the throes of disappointment! You can’t dampen my spirits! Too late my spirits are already in a puddle! How can you make me depressed when you already met me in that state? The intoxicating sense of power over myself grips me, ha! Nobody can ruffle my feathers, he who is down need fear no fall.

CrazyOldMan

Have you noticed that there is something quite happy about depression? In the smug satisfaction that comes with pitying yourself? In the blameless piety involved in blaming others for your problems? Oh the joy of being guilt free.
Why do you laugh at the madman? Don’t you realize he has been emancipated from the mind boggling frustrations of sanity? No wonder he is so happy! You must be mad to hold on so desperately to your sanity. Ha ha ha ha!

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Why weep at death? Staring at the empty shell that once contained your loved one. What happened to the belief that he is in a better place and can be hurt no more? Is it doubt that makes us hang on so tightly to our existence? Attempting to delay our trip to the other side of breath! I wonder. I gaze into their eyes and I see their frustration, struggling for relevance in a sea of irrelevance! Striving to attain greatness by embracing mediocrity! Scurrying around in a rat race, gathering shiny jewels and trinkets only to lose them all on their final trip.
I stand alone, watching! The lone wolf amused at the futility of their struggles. Though as lost as they are, I choose to stand still till I find the road map with directions to redemption.

But how do I find if I do not seek? All certainly is vanity!

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The idiocy of war! I disagree with you, so I’ll send some of my sons over for you to kill; in exchange we kill some of your sons. It then boils down to the smarter party losing when he realizes he cannot afford to lose anymore sons! While the stupid victor gloats over his willingness to throw more life away! Three cheers for the outstanding victor! Hurray! It can be summarized thus, war is young men dying and old men talking.

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Lovers necking in the moonlight! Neither aware of the niggling doubts in the other’s heart, neither aware that in the next minute all the warm fuzzy feelings would be replaced with harsh animosity. It is funny that in a relationship the person who cares less wields more power, but isn’t it the vulnerability in caring that is the very essence of the relationship?

I gaze at the meadows the beauty of d flowers, the fluttering butterflies and a wry smile touches my lips as a small child grabs a butterfly and stuffs it in a jar. What is captivating shall be made captive, what is ravishing shall be ravished. It is the very nature of man that makes him destroy all that is beautiful in his path.

Written by @Yholar

@nzurixnzuri’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 Bunmi’s letter.

Hang in there.

Victoria's Letter

Bunmi’s Letter

Dear daughter,

For a little girl with eyes wide shut and arms wide open as these words inundate her very being.

Like arrows in the hand of a mighty man, this little girl is mine
This little girl is a part of me

Smiling in your sleep,I wonder what makes you smile so
Is my little angel dreaming?
Is she dreaming of happy places and thinking happy thoughts?

Your eyes flutter open
And you smile at me
Your smile warms my heart like thermal socks on an English winter night
And I tell you this feeling right here is a genesis older than the big bang

Looking into your eyes, I smile back
Lighting up like a thousand fireflies,
Your beautiful brown eyes are as pure as the driven snow
Eyes filled with all the innocence and curiosity that comes with being a new-born
I see that curiosity in your eyes,
Like Dora my little angel is eager to take on the world
This meretricious world you’re so eager to explore is evil and cold

Darling daughter you are not grey, yellow or beige
Your skin is the color of your father’s joy and your mother’s love
Despite what society and television tell you, hard work, sincerity and honesty are more important than the price of your handbag or red-soled shoes.

When you are up to your knees in disappointment
When, planning your crucifixion,
Life pins you from side
When you’re overwhelmed
Baby,you don’t have to bear it all on own
I have no red cape but baby girl I’d be your Supermom
I’d always have comfort food for those days when the glitter fades,
And you feel torn and dejected.
We’d eat popcorn and chocolates
Watch reruns of Friends
And most importantly take it to the Lord in prayer

Do not fret darling child
Like the sand welcomes the ocean,
He’s always there to receive you in his arms.
When you feel you’re not good enough Remember God made you good enough.
Don’t you dare forget, you are the strongest creature to exist, you’re His masterpiece
You have the light to fight the darkness
Don’t you dare forget!
He made you beautiful!
He made you unique!

Dear daughter,
Have big dreams
Invest in your mind
Read far and wide,
For indeed,
The secrets to this world
Are found,
Where pen and paper confluence
Be grateful for everything you have
And everyone you meet.
Like Barak on that cold January morning As he made history,
Dear daughter stand tall and proud. Fashion your arms like airplanes
And say to yourself…

“I AM PRICELESS”!

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project continues on monday, with @ObaFuntAy’s letter.

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

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@Aw3L3’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 Awele’s letter.

Hang in there.

Aw3L3's Letter

Awele’s Letter

Hey, beautiful one.

The world is very lucky to have you, and the people who ought to realize this, will, soon enough. It’s an outrageous world you live in; you will meet bizarre people, experience weird and wonderful things. You must learn to take everything in your stride. You know my dear; I have so much faith in you and your abilities. I believe you can take on anything. However, Mother’s faith in you is nothing if you have no belief in yourself. The salt of the earth, the light of the world, a great man has called us, and I believe him. Logical isn’t it, that we are all created to carve out our own niche in humanity, to make someone or people happier, more comfortable, better? That we’re not just puppets inspired by some superior being’s desire to play large scale monopoly? You are special, and different, never let anyone tell you otherwise. Never believe anyone who calls you useless. You have a purpose, and even if it weren’t a niche, you must realize, that your breathing makes your father and I very happy and grateful. Regardless of how the irrelevant others might see it, you are so important. Believe strongly in yourself, and all the good that you choose to be. You will realize as you grow older, that people will form opinions about you, offer unsolicited advice about things in your life they really know nothing about. Use your discretion. You cannot afford to listen to everyone. They cannot all be right or goodness which way will you go? You see why you must have faith in who you are; once you do, every other voice will be the backdrop of your glorious existence.

One thing I have learned my child, is friends never really stay. They come and go in phases. Some leave us by our own doing, the loss of some may be our undoing, and if we are lucky, the amazing ones leave to return. You must expect this, brace yourself for the impending hurt if necessary, but never act like it. Don’t push people away because you think they might not stay. Enjoy friendships while they last, bask in the relationships that edify and truly make you happy, and learn from them. Again I warn you to use your discretion; not everyone who will cozy up to you likes you, and not everyone you meet will like you for the right reasons, whatever those reasons may be to you. Make your mistakes; some lessons must be learned firsthand, and the hope that keeps us going makes us want to try out in places and things where others have failed. Where would have been the faith in yourself and your abilities, if another’s failure daunted you? So make your mistakes. But learn from them, also.

Boys are a riveting group, aren’t they? Some are senseless beyond understanding; others so charming and gifted you can hardly take it. And all the better to observe when they become men. So are girls anyway. You must neither be deceived, nor deceive yourself; underneath the display of adoration, professed love, what men really want is sex. It might not be all they want, but that of course, is for you decide. No man wants anything more than regular coitus from an irresponsible woman. And if, God forbid you choose that path, you will find yourself invariably without a companion because really, no one wants to be with someone who has no standards, limits or value system. When you realize what you want from a man, you will prep yourself accordingly. I will leave the stern advice, direct exact warning, and rules to your father. There’s no one better to give you advice on men, that one himself, and one who loves you unconditionally. I love you also. I love you very much. Without reservation, and in spite of your past and future errors. You will become a great person, and I feel proud of you already.

Love,

Mother.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with Olawale‘s letter.

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

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@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.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

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

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