Except being good with words
and an unrepentant scribbler of pun,
I have absolutely no qualifications, but that has not mattered in the past.
The eyes have it. ‘cos we’re fed up of being led by the blind.
I have no idea nor udder-stand what the job description is, but I’m pretty sure I outsmart the Daura Pa in 101 ways.
The nays can’t have it. ‘cos I’ve calf myself a niche.
Blah blah blah
I am Jaachi. This is my favorite name, and personality. I have multiple of ’em. Stefn is the most prominent. The others…topic for another year.
I was born today, approximately two decades and a dozen and one years ago.
On a night. By mum alone.
Not in some fancy hospital staffed with beautiful nurses. In a certain midwife’s room lit by a candle or two.
Dad was the Magi. He came hours later with a frank sense and mmanya…and christened me JaaChi.
I am a Christian, rooted in afrofuturism.
My head is a whirlpool of sweet cacophony. My thoughts zig-zags a maze of vain things.
The most impious thoughts ever conceived by monks, resides in my mind.
Yes, I still, am pure – in heart. What else matters?
I’ve not always been a poet, thoughts as such made me one.
I may not be where I wished I were, but today I am grateful I conquered my fears.
I have my fare share of doubts in divinity and faith. I may not, with the sagacity of many scriptural knowledge, defend nor explain the existence of God, because what I feel and faith are sworn enemies, at war – both wants me, but I know for real that God exists.
Nothing else matters.
I don’t like church and religion quite much, but I can’t deny my soul his victuals thus.
If the preacher bores, I doze away,
could be because, His word’s my lullaby –
He giveth his beloved sleep. Nay?
People make jest of my lankiness
and mock my uncut hair,
but I glory in my uniqueness,
and marvel at their average sense.
I trust easily and assist friends, fiends, not because I can,
I derive strength in others smile.
It doesn’t matter who offended who,
Mama taught me to art of “I’m sorry” too.
I am that rare kind who questions everything.
I question God a thousand times,
when I do not understand,
why my plans go not as planned.
Against popular opinion,
Jah doesn’t give me a head knock
nor make attempts to twist my tongue,
to sing His praises by force.
Away from all such serious talk,
my tongue can’t tell the taste of birthday cakes,
and studio photoshoot never been done.
I don’t know to express happiness,
but I’m well versed in silence,
and have mastered the pathway of tears.
I may not be a perfect reflection of God’s grace,
I may not be a perfect expression of His love,
But you see that young man seated, calm and expressionless
He’s a perfect proof that God’s a poet.
Happy Birthday, Jaachi
Stefn loves you
But Odinakachi loves you more.
And hey! Stop being a doubting Thomas, sometimes.
Believe in yourself at ALL TIMES.
PS: I swore to not be poetic in this. No greater deceit than this. 😂
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