Skip to main content

Idara : The Last of The Gung-Ho Kids




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.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Year of 20

I turned 20 two months ago. This means I am no longer "a 19-year old freelance writer" as it is written on my blog's mini-bio. I have noticed now that it was a sunny day, just like this one, and a day I felt drenched with love. Again, just like this one. The year of 19 was slightly awkward and laborious for me. It involved a lot of "finding my feet" and striving to achieve goals before the big clock struck 20. Many of these goals cannot even be remembered. They were not solid and more importantly, they were not even relevant to my purpose. I decided to take a blogger's break to see if any other talent would spring up, itching to be used. Something else did and I realised that I am actually quite good in telling stories with pictures. Be mindful that I am not blowing my own trumpet, I am only grateful that in 19 , a buried treasure was dug up. So here's 20. I have made a  personal resolution for this year- to let go and let GOD. I know it is not...
Post a Comment
Read more

The key of G.

Set the tone and I'll sing to Your song, with our heart-beats to the same rhythm, my will and Yours in Harmony My mind auto-tuned to Your desires, Notes of love and genuine dedication my life, my walk in Your symphony Lyrics of Grace, chords of Salvation Choruses of freedom and victory All in Your Key of G. G-O-D.    'The G-chord'   
1 comment
Read more

How Great Thou Art: God's glory in the Arts

I remember how I saw colour that day. The green trees, the blue sky, the brown soil, everything vivid and bright. It was the usual walking route with the usual after-work tiredness, but, as if my eyes had been opened from blindness, the mundane became vibrant and I stopped to take it all in. The words from the popular hymn, How Great Thou Art, come to mind: When through the woods and forest glades I wander And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees When I look down from lofty mountain grandeur And hear the brook, and feel the gentle breeze The greatness of God’s works was displayed before me, like an artist exhibiting his masterpieces in a gallery. Hidden in the seemingly dull and ordinary was His beauty being uncovered. I thought to myself “how great is His creation, the work of His hands.” “The heavens declare the glory of God, the sky above proclaims His handiwork” (Psalm 19:1). O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder, Consider all t...
1 comment
Read more