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.
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.
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.
• • •
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?
You can send in your own written letters to firstname.lastname@example.org
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