Omonigho

Getting accustomed to scary routines and tending to enjoy them is something I have never really mastered. But I have become adept at hiding this fact. For instance, I am still frety at the thought of crossing busy highways, even though on the outside, I am a calm dove when I do so.

I thought dogs to be the most loyal of man’s domesticated animals. I thought ‘dogs all the way’ until our 3 year old brilliant, cheerful dog metamorphosed into a beastly creature for God knows why. We do not know when the change began but we confirmed it after Volly, our cute dog, stopped wagging his tail and decided to chew the bloody juice out of a vistor’s fingers. Nobody tells me to be careful with Volly or other dogs. But however playful we get around each other, I still carry about the consciousness that shit could hit the roof any moment.

Speaking of friendliness and playfulness, whenever I become comfortable enough to make and say silly inside jokes with persons, however much I loosen up in their company, I place somewhere on an easily reachable shelf in my mind, that these folks can one day become complete strangers whose daily lives would have no intercept with mine. But I get lost in them anyway. I appreciate them anyway, because until after now, all we have to enjoy is what we have for now.

I have come to settle with the idea that you will be whatever to anyone.

You will be a good man to the old lady you helped across the highway. You will be a wicked uncle to the niece you forced to do homework when she would rather watch TV.

You will mean the world to that partner whose life became heaven because you said yes, and you will be a devil to the friend you turned down.

You will be many things that you are, and are not.

Your nectar will be venom to that stranger whose meat is your poison.

The number will be six to the man standing North, and nine to the man down South.

But what do these matter? There should be no apology if you are simply you to yourself.

I saw a bird nestle on an electric cable while it rained. I strained to hear its chrip in the drowning sound of rainfall. Then I remembered you asking me earlier why I loved you so much.

You are never ruffled. For all the times I’ve stared into your eyes I have only seen calmness. Just like that bird, you know how to perch on the safest spot in turmoil. You Know how to exude the best part of you when your worst is expected. You survive without hurting a fly. Collecting every tiny piece of yourself, you have it all together and It beats my mind.

I do not know if you taught yourself to wield peace this much, or if you were born a natural warrior of frith. But I adore you for this, and I know that this gift is contagious, because loving you has rubbed peace off on me.

When I say God is beautiful, I mean a thousand things that I do not know what representative quality to best convey. Like today, the thought of God gave me that joy of watching a tiny baby yawn, or laugh. I felt love and friendship become real, so that I could almost touch its concrete form.

You know that genuine relevance, acceptance and love that courses through you when a baby smiles at you? I felt something like that today. But I really can not describe it.
So in all, God is beautiful.

I think of you as that pigeon bird.
The one that perches on my Kitchen window on hot afternoons.
It never misses a day.

You flap your colourful wings, swirling me in awe of your beauty, every other day, on your own terms.

And like that little pigeon that teases me all day, but flutters away in a hurry when I reach out,

You squeeze out of my reach when I come close. Only to come back the next day to display more colours of you. And just as far from my reach as the pigeon would.