on A Myrtle Tree

And just like that

there is a man sitting on a myrtle tree

his body is feeble but his voice is loud

He sings the same song everyday;

Woe is the man who believes

in the freedom the world promises

for no such thing has ever existed

or will ever…

Sometimes he begins to fuss and wail

for no ear cares to listen

He should have given up a while ago

yet he campaigns even vigorously

Remove the scales from your eyes

so you can see in the darkness

There is only freedom

in the arms of the son of man

Days come and months pass

Sun shines and snow breaks

A child is born and a man dies

but the man’s mouth is never shut;

Open your lips and sing his praise

the LORD of lords is alive forever

drink from the living water he provides

and let peace rule your heart till death

The kids make fun of him all day

the young men think he’s drunk on spirit

the old men think he finally broken

since his family died a while back

I sometimes sit under that myrtle tree

let his voice serenade me while I rest

lately I started thinking of the possibilities

the man may be mad, but what if he’s right?

Ready to let it go

Yesterday was a considerably long day because I made a phone call. This phone call was one which is particularly important to me.

It was my brother’s birthday, and I needed to confront parts of myself that is connected to him. If you haven’t already, please visit my post titled; Young. If you gave that a read and you were wondering what that was about, here’s the other part I purposely omitted because I wasn’t ready to go into depths that day I published Young.

My brother started behaving different when I was maybe 8 and he was 10. I was prolly the only one who noticed at the time until his grades came in.

We went from being best friends to me wondering why he was so withdrawn. He wasn’t talking much and I spent a lot of time hypothesising what it could be, I just couldn’t fathom it.

I was mad. I was resentful, I eventually became withdrawn as well.

When folks ask questions about my family, I’m always avoidant. A lot of people actually think I’m the first born until I get too comfortable and spill, something I regret immediately after, they would then go; ” Oh, you have an older brother? what’s he doing, where’s he at?

And I would deflect and feel ashamed

The authorities, doctors in Nigeria didn’t know either. When I learnt about Autism and Autism spectrum disorders, I began comparing it with his routine and repetitive mannerism and I was so sure I’ve diagnosed it.

The more I researched Autism and Asperger’s, and compared with him, the more I realised this wasn’t it. But for lack of better diagnosis , I stuck with it.

When his MRI scans came out, it showed that the plump parts of  the internal capsule that connects the left and right hemispheres of the brain did not develop completely, so called agenesis or hypogenesis of the Corpus callosum. Extremely rare tho

Finding the pathology brought a touch of closure for me, I guess. Since I was 8, I’ve only ever wanted to understand what it was. For those interested, I will leave a link here and below.

Odudu didn’t go to uni or technical college because he doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it.

Nevertheless, his meek soul is one I’m proud of.  A lot of our childhood experiences taunted me with guilt, shame and with a touch of inadequacy, feelings I’m all too familiar with and extremely tired of. Right now, I’m working on  building a new ,unbreakable relationship with my brother again

When I struggle to get my life together and to get a continuous stream of income, only 30%  is about my future.

Life is not fair but my brother deserves a future and it’s up to God and me to bring it into fulfilment.

Thanks for reading my daily thought <3

Here’s the link on Ageneis of Corpus Callosum

Know Thy Worse Self

We’ve all heard it. We’ve watered it. And it’s grown, and it’s growing faster than innovation. It is the voice of destruction. The one who wants to kill you. The one who will stifle you, and choke you to death without justice.

I’ve listened to it whine, all my life. It’s told me how senseless I am. That I’m too dumb to ever be taken seriously. I am too weird to ever have a meaningful connection. I am too abnormal, no body could care less if I spoke or not. It said, I might as well blend in with the bland wall and disappear. Worse still, no one would notice if I’m gone.

For a long time I committed to it, it’s presence was seethingly stark in my earlier works.

Most days, I tried to reason with it, I accepted it, then I pleaded with it. Then, I  just disappeared like it told me to.

For a very very very long time, loneliness was in the air I breath, it was all I wrote about.

 

It wasn’t up to me, it wasn’t in my power. I began to realise how innovative I could be, then how fierce I am.

It’s okay if no one understands what my poetry is about. It’s gibberish, but even gibberish has added meaning to the heart. It’s fine that I’m not a jaunty influencer that everyone can connect with.

I’m weird, I know and nothing can take that away.

Nothing, not even you, the darkest side of my psyche can conquer me. I fight everyday to know my worse self, for only then can I truly destroy the bitch.

Once I had my wings broken, now I’m clawing my way out of darkness.

Letting myself know that I’m stronger for being weak.


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Image: pinterest

Transcension

“Be whatever you want to be”, they say, although what they really mean is, “You can be whatever you want as long as it is what I want you to.”

My sister told me this two years ago.  Now she’s eighteen and in the first year in the same school I just graduated from, medical programme. The truth is, I acceded to the decision to study medicine, It was more like a psychological attunement, people would say; “You like to read, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, you should be a Dr”. Uyai, on the other hand chose medicine.

Her struggles now give me flashbacks to when I was  naive and in first year. She had a bout of clinical depression that landed her in psychiatry outpatient, I suffered depression in between 1st and 2nd year as well, though it never occurred to me to me to visit the hospital, I turned to writing, drawing, and lots of crying. By then I hadn’t discovered the therapeutic values of exercise, nature walks and yoga, so I bottled it all in, no one knew.

I was praised for being strong, but matter-of-factly, Uyai-abasi showed admirable bravery for realising she had a problem and dealing with it. Our school system, unfortunately, is rigged for majority to fail, or at the very least, lose hope.  Now, my parents parenting style is absolutely contentious, in fact I’m probably scared for life because of their so called “African mentality”, but one thing our dad taught us was to stand our ground and never give up.  So the trials ensued, and boy did it rain down in full force, but I was too stubborn, and I know how resilient my sister is.

It took eight years of arduous training to become a Doctor, that day almost didn’t want to come, but as one of my favourite bloggers isaiahministry, noted, on their blog; “when God is working, he does so extraordinarily so the world knows that it is he”. I continue thanking him for honouring me in the way he has,  it took a lot of humbling experiences for me to finally succumb to his will,  I know he will bequeath his favour to Uyai-abasi. Because I’ve lived through them , I am now her biggest supporter.

 

A Haiku:

Pitter-patter of our DNA footprints

Juxtaposing faith’s light on grace

Attuned with signals of transcension