IN PURSUIT OF INNOCENCE

In a class of preteens, a child who was asked to give an example of “words and opposites” replied without much thought: the opposite of childhood is adultery. I imagine till date, what my response would have been as the inquiring teacher. My mind would probably race to what might have influenced such a disturbing deduction.
From where I stand now, I would love to think the opposite of childhood to be guilt. Guilt of knowledge- sometimes detrimental; guilt of awareness to realities that often tamper with our bliss; guilt of possessing just enough courage to question what hitherto were answers; guilt of losing our innocence.
It’s of course nothing close to our fault that as we age, we grab even from the air we breathe, the knowledge of what we shouldn’t do for reasons like shame. We are not to blame for waking up ‘suddenly’ with a realization of the flavors of a kiss and the savor of friendship. Should we feel guilt, truly, for becoming conscious of some of the emotions that define the mature from the otherwise?
As a child for instance, we are profoundly gullible. What’s wrong with believing for the umpteenth time, that Uncle Mike will buy us an airplane? What’s there to not believe? He’s Uncle Mike, who plays with me all too often and loves me in a way that makes the word ‘Uncle’ simply special. Beneath this gullibility is the enduring hope in people- the unreserved trust in the ability of people to come through with their promises. It’s what makes kids, kids. Why does this disappear? When do we realize that humans at their very best are humans and can fail despite the grandeur and sincerity of their plans?
Long before we became guilty, we found it easy letting go of wrongs. I could perhaps term this amnesia of the infant. It powered our trust in those who repeatedly broke promises; it allowed friends back into our good books after they hurt us; it gave the word sorry, all the meaning in the world. “I’m sorry” did more magic than it does for adults. Childhood made us too blind to the realities which make adulthood quite an ordeal. We were blissfully unaware of what goes into winning bread and how weighty heartbreaks are and the nightmare that betrayal represents. We were just glad to wake, race through daylight with delight until darkness compelled our eyelids to drop for a while.
I long to experience this unawareness again! I yearn for what it felt like to be unsuspecting of people just because they are from this tribe or that religious background. I gasp longingly for the pure pleasures of innocence again. It might sound like the extreme of wishes and more so, the hope that would forever remain comatose, yet I long again for innocence.
I know adulthood is a beautiful gift to all who come into it and that of course, was designed to move us up into the needful stage of taking responsibilities. I know that we are to grow up and should grow up and my yearnings are not contrary to what adulthood represents. It’s rather a hope that in addition to what adults are, we could also retain and enjoy the prime beauties of childhood.
It would make us quick to forgive and less hurt-prone because most of our hard feelings would dissolve in tears. It would return a strong sense of humanity to us. If we could chase innocence and be fortunate enough to lay hold of it, I’m quite certain that we would take God at His word. Easily. Like children, we would be more curious about everything yet be easily content with the ‘biscuits’ of life. We would act in defiance of generalizations and treasure moments shared with those dear to us, more. If we could lay hold of innocence once more, we would laugh more, hope more, live more.

MADE in CHINA

Do you remember when he said
I love you for who you are not for how you look?
When the flames of passion were hot and red
And when you thought “for marriage, I’m already booked”.
Cos you meant more to him than European leagues,
Until he became too intrigued
With his very light-skin colleague.

Do you remember when you felt like ‘the man’?
When she would text, visit and even made you her magic number?
When she chose you over shopiing in Milan?
And said times spent with you made her feel younger
And how that you would make a great father
Until she met her brother’s friends
Especially the one with the blue convertible Benz.

Do you now remember,
That love that was Made in China?

True, he loves you not for looks,
But would that stay true if you lost a leg?
And although your name is her password on facebook
But would it remain on her lips if your accounts go red?
Just before you think yourself any different or better
Please be careful ‘cos even your love might be Made in China.

At our best, we are humans
And experts at loving with reasons
We can goof despite the sincerity of our plans
Like leaving after shared memories and seasons.
We can hope, profess and confess
Yet we remain humans, even at our best.

Our eyes can only judge the physical,
But His eyes see through flesh to our hearts;
And while the mutual knowledge from dating is critical,
He alone can hastily reveal pretence from facts.
True love and faithfulness takes a true believer
It’s with Him you can make promises and deliver.

If you hate the love Made in China
You must first learn to love the Father
‘Cos no one can love past the flesh to your soul
If they don’t know the Lover of my soul.

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO LOVE

I understand the need to feel love
To be held in the grip of one’s thoughts
To be the fantasy yet reality
Of one who treats you like the true extension of Divinity.

I buy the essence of sharing hearts
And being pampered much more than Garfield the cat
Believe me; I know the warmth of a lover’s smile
And how the sight of a face can leave you high
I know what it means to seek to be loved
I’ve been stretched through that heartrending curve.

But remember, love is a seed and fruit
So how much of it can you yield if you lack roots.
Keep in mind that love is patient and kind
It’s no product of what you are worth or the size of your behind.

Love is God, from the tip of His crown
To the helm of His majestic gown.
And that’s why it’s so powerful
And so refreshing, you can’t have a ‘heartful’.
Love is divine and He is the Vine
And you must be the branch
If your love would be any better than that of D Banj.

Love is a wonderful, beautiful Being,
Quit beholding it as a mere sexual feeling.

FASHIONISTAIN

I yearn to speak as I hurt,
That I might heal my bleeding heart’s cut.
I yearn to speak of fashion trends
And how we the royal priesthood have yielded to their every bend
Pardon me if I sound like mystery,
I’ve been confined to spill just poetry.

The world originates and we imitate,
Even with an eagle’s eye, it’s difficult to differentiate.
They call it fashion creativity
But I find it rarely distinct from insanity
Or what would you call wearing strands of threads
Yet hoping to conceal all but our heads.

From the ancient to the present,
The feminine gender has drifted from the innocent,
They have gone from wearing turtle necks,
To round necks, to V-necks,
To halter-necks and to no-necks: a.k.a tubes,
Giving us more than just clues.

The stronger vessels
Have seemingly turned leaking temples
As we now pierce our bodies
To feel as funky as our secular ‘homies’
Our hairs we now style and weave,
Making us less of Adam and more of Eve.

Do you now see the picture I paint?
Or would you rather I continued till I faint?

I do not criticize or castigate,
I’m light so I illuminate.
We can be trendy without bending,
We are the standards and standards stand out
We can be gorgeous and still be righteous
Church, we can be recent and still be decent.