A tale like no other, before you I lay
Simplicity its form, amidst its language rests the cunning.
Its nature like an egg, artistic, strong yet delicate exterior,
A protective hedge it creates for the rich versatile fluidity of the interior,
Heed caution, for like the scent of the egg interior ensures resurrection to the last meal for some, for others it is a welcome nourishment giving revival to things previously considered dead.
Idara is the name, bursting forth with meaning
Originating from Nigeria, it is claimed by two tribes
In the South-East, the Ibibio know the name to mean JOY
And on the country’s Western front, the Yoruba understand it as GOODNESS.
So, Goodness and Joy abundant are Idara’s goals
Mind, body and soul,
Silence and labour, her companions through the days,
Pruning and self-grooming, till her goals she achieves.
Discipline and hard work, her daily creed,
Learning ever, settling never.
A constant desire for knowledge,
Keeping close by to the reminder of "all Good" and "all Joy"
A perfect picture? Not this one
More like a picture of perfection, without blemish, varnished
The perfection derived
Never tarnished.
Love was a constant in her life.
With an assortment of family and friends,
ready to revert all scientific theories to see her in comfort,
the need for external affection was not one she experienced.
Rejecting with a warm smile all advances from daring men,
And on occasion a little more force, for she is beautiful
A modern day Cleopatra, she has a plan
A standard for her Mr. Right, only the brave dare try
Fewer still make the cut, none steal her heart
Not yet.
Alas, a price was paid for the continuous consumption of knowledge
For being ever present at her father’s feet,
As a sponge in water, soaking up all of his wisdom.
She grew up too fast.
Despising childish folly and forsaking the company of her peers,
Her infancy was spent laying the foundations for a solid future
Acting the mature and responsible role, and to her detriment
Ridding herself of the innocence attached to childhood.
This very critical part of growth she abandoned,
The purest and most truthful part of our lives as humans.
The chance to gain immunity, to build a thick-skin,
To stock up on resistance, germs and taunts alike.
Resistance- both physical and mental.
A void exists, at first in the shadows
As the light of day breaks, more visible it becomes
Occasionally, those without this void long for it,
That they may relive the Joys and Goodness of filling it,
To experience once again lives purest form
Innocence and Simplicity in a child’s heart
The freedom of responsibility and the seriousness of play,
Trying out things that have been forbid you,
Getting excited at growing an inch taller,
Crushing on the boy next door,
Purest bliss, alas some have had no idea,
With nothing previously experienced, she has nothing to reminisce on
Psychologically drained from tackling lives problems in childhood
Way before her mind was ever prepared for it.
An aging mind will always show outwardly, withdrawn in thought and worries.
Still she hangs on to her last comfort,
Hope.
The hope that it’s not too late rectify mistakes of the past,
Hope that while childish innocence might be long gone, the void might yet be filled with faith
She hangs on to hope
She hangs on to love...
Written by The Preacher's Son, a poet and friend.
Written by The Preacher's Son, a poet and friend.
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