I should take a break,
Rest my body and lay mind amongst the softness of night.
I should lie down in submission of labour.
I should,
But stars have a habit of falling and burning whatever haven I have left.
Earth is known to shake and tremble under its own weight.
So, it is time for me to move out.
Everything I own is in a box.
The windows to my soul are closed.
The curtains are finally drawn,
The drapes are too heavy to be moved, to be changed.
You can’t see what’s on the inside, because I’m not done sweeping,
Not done with reinventing, renovation.
It’s a small space with a lot of potential.
So, let me clear the air,
Let me clear the smoke,
Let me clear my mind,
Let me start again,
With purpose, with intent, with control.
As much as God will allow.
Read I am a Child of Time – A poem by Titilope Monsure, Nigeria
