Diary of a Pastor's Son
Jaachi Anyatonwu

Anchored On Christ

Sometimes, the pilgrim’s journey to heaven is disrupted by challenges that wearies the soul. This is a plea by a weary soul to the Lord. May our anchor hold in times of storm.

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black boy
Jaachi Anyatonwu

HUMANITY IS OBLIVIOUS OF ME

and when I begin to fade, my life becoming worthless, stones shall be heaped over my carcass, beside my father, who like his father, were stones uncracked by conditions and convictions harsh.

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black boy
Jaachi Anyatonwu

Ballon d’Or

  Ballon d’Or   because i know my days are numbered like football jersey i run with the single purpose of netting the ball in the net   soon, this

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black boy
Jaachi Anyatonwu

Restraint

Restraint   accusing fingers,curious eyes,hushed voicescome crashing in like raging wavesknocking off the shadowsof self-control. you shut your eyesand let the mayhem slow fadeand drown in your yesteryears in the

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Biafra
Jaachi Anyatonwu

Igbo Cheta

Igbo Chetaalthough the freedom sought and fought for is yet to be gained, they fought so you could be here today, igbo cheta they laid down their lives and exposed

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articles
Jaachi Anyatonwu

The Last Butterfly

The Last Butterfly “Poor little butterfly,” the young girl said. “Poor little butterfly.” Then reaching down slowly so as to not scare it away, she slid her tiny fingers underneath,

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