in Revelations

Sunday, 22 November 2020

WHY I WRITE: OBEYING THE DIVINE



Why i write


I write to complete creation; to lend my hands to the moulding of this temporal space I am made to dwell in. 

I make sentences because my father left me with a head pan of letters and a shovel of words. He named me a builder and asked me to draw light from darkness, to invent and cement a storyline. He threatened to throw my birthright to the dogs if I do not create a soft landing, a base, an accessible megaphone to allow for koinonia among my brethren.

 I write with the audacity of a god, an heir to an empire the king left at foundation level and ascended into divine space. I write because I carry a yoke on my fingertips, a light burden that unearths itself in a form devoid of emptiness and ready to give the world shape. 

When I write, I am obeying the last wishes of my grandfather, a gentle spirit and king in a small village in southeastern Nigeria. I like to believe divinity sent him as my forerunner to deepen and uproot languages with his tongue, to travel across dynasties, and baptize royalties with moonlight stories so that I can be worthy enough to unbuckle the straps of people who have walked through timelessness. 

They say writing flows in my ancestry; that my mother and the mothers before her wrote on sands, that they registered shivers down the spines of men and scrawled threats into the palm wine keg of the drunkard who dared to beat them even before paper was invented. I write because I want to summon them, to make them have breath in this new world they are not accustomed to; to continue their legacy.

In this world full of limitations, writing is my escape route, my oxygen of confrontation, and my freedom lounge. When I write, I embody the temerity to call things that be not as though they are. Like a true daughter of a royal father, I give breath to clay and dare them to turn to dust.

I have the power to create life and take it, to transport bodies across continents from my favourite armchair and sprinkle diverse traits over the characters I have formed.

 When I put my pen to blank paper, I feel like a god with the bravado to build anthills in the savannah, to come out boldly and declare that the beautiful ones are not yet born, to look at the yellow sun and slice it in half, to behold the severity of chaos and still declare that everything good will come. 

I evade prosecution with my words. How I can boldly declare my sister a serial killer without facing the full wrath of the law or look the future in the eye and tell it that tomorrow died yesterday. I write because I can reinvent, alter time, build up, and tear down.

I write to remove the thorns of misogyny for daughters like me who will walk through tough paths on their journey to becoming unbreakable. I want to give them a weapon to bruise society when it tries to shrink them; to make them reject the suffering type of comfort that keeps them in anxiety with its claws around their necks.

I write to squeeze the necessity out of darkness until it is drained to comprehend the light. I write because, in a country clouded by bad judgment where I can be stoned to silence or death by anything that dares to fall apart, it is not my time to die. 


Writing workshops

I wrote this essay as a student at SprinNG & it was edited by my Mentor Ìbùkún

Wednesday, 3 June 2020

I REWROTE THE LORDS PRAYER


Digital art by Laura h. Rubbin
Art by Laura H. Rubbin

The World is heavy with bad news. I have been afraid, sad, and overwhelmed but I realized my father would want me to choose hope, he would want me to focus on him and surrender. This is just me making sense of a prayer Abba taught us himself. I saw Iyanu Adebiyi do it on her Instagram stories. So,

Here is my version of the lord's prayer

My father
who sits warmly above me
Your holiness purifies my tongue
as I call out your name.
I am here, in this temporal place you have created for me.

 I am learning to twist this place
into a divine blueprint to reflect your
heavenly intentions
To make it as conducive as your
glowing abode
So that I can call you in for a feast
 Fill my belly just enough for me to run out and run to you in split seconds
Needing and yearning from your abundance.

Father this girl is demanding
Asking that you hurry up with the dough
Because the bakeries here choose to
Feed me stone
I am hungry, fill me.

Blot away my red spots
Do not let my sin fix the weight of
The World on my chest
Father, take this filth and make it favor
I will peel off my resentment
And make room for reconciliation
I will not let the heat of my anger burn my
Neighbors skin
I will not be intrusive or call their dermis darkness

Father
My body is orgasmic at the sight
Of things that will destroy me
The path I have chosen is coy
My legs firmly planted in the fields of
Desire and I devour with gluttony everything that crosses my path
Drag me out of this route
Lead me out of this temptation
Father my soul wants to fall
Catch it with light
Save me from the dubiousness
 of bad intentions
Deliver me from all Evil

And when this girl is clean
She will get accustomed to the
The infinitive landmark of your abode
The grandiose of your existence
The reign of your majesty
And she will know truly
That yours is the kingdom
The power and the glory
Till the end of all days


Read the actual lords prayer here.
I encourage you to do this, take any part of the Bible and personalize it, you can start with the Lord's prayer. Leave me a comment and you can even email me your version.
Stay safe and stay prayed up.


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