If you look closely enough and other poems

*If you look closely enough*

In a life that is set to disorient humans from time to time, I have found that gratitude is a grounding habit.
I don’t imply gratitude for the enormous strides, victories, and accomplishments. I mean being thankful for the smallest, often insignificant things.
I’ve been doing these little exercises where I acknowledge every entity that contributed to something I enjoy. For instance, for breakfast I had some yams and stew that was fried in palm oil.

So I thanked the earth for growing such tasteful and soft yams.
I sent the farmers my gratitude for tending to the earth as it did its part.

I thanked the transporters and Mummy Zion for bringing the yams and pepper to my table.

I also expressed gratitude to myself for making a delicious meal out of raw materials.

By the time I finished my slices, I realized I was still thanking people and being grateful for entities I wouldn’t have noticed if I never started the exercise.

So no matter how dark the world around you is, if you look closely enough, there’s always someone or something to be grateful for.

*I hate that mornings are inevitable*

When I stare into the darkness and silence of the night, I wish that everything would stay as still as it is at that moment.

I enjoy the sound of birds chirping and sunny skies, but these days, the night feels like the perfect cloak for my latest emotions.

It feels like the ideal place and time to shade the things that mornings would show.

I sometimes pray for morning to not come so I don’t have to deal with people. Even though I’m cultivating better relationships and experiences, it all gets tiring after a while.

My mind gets tired of conjuring up flattering words, and my mouth gets tired of saying the ‘right’ things.

My body does not want to put in another day of effort to keep me healthy. It just wants to be still and alone in the darkness and silence of the night.

But I’m afraid I don’t have a choice. Mornings are inevitable, as is the cycle of putting on a show.

*Grief is complicated*

I assumed that when people grieve, it’s always related to the loss of a loved one like a partner, sibling, friend, parent, or pet. I’m familiar with that kind of grief. I have lost loved ones and I know the pain of adjusting to their presence becoming memories.

I heard someone say that grief is all the love you are unable to share, and it made sense. I have mourned loved ones in moments I wish they didn’t have to miss out on, or in moments when I see gifts they would’ve appreciated.

What took me by complete surprise is the grief no one told me about, the grief of a lost hobby or lifestyle. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt it, but it hurts when you cannot, no matter what you do, enjoy what you used to.

I cannot say the grief is the same, but habits are just a part of us as any other part of our lives. So when you are forced to abandon a habit that thrilled or excited you, it hurts differently, and it is not talked about enough. I’m sorry if life dealt you those cards, it is also having its fun with me.

Every time I share these emotions, I’m told that I should accept them and move on. It is easier said than done, but I’m choosing to mourn the habits I devoted myself to but can no longer enjoy. For me, mourning precedes acceptance and rebirth.

*Assembly*
I received the best advice of my life during a morning assembly in Ss1.
We had just finished with the hymns, and the prefects and teachers were making various announcements.
The principal came on to round off and send us to class.
As he was closing his speech, he asked a few students in front who their role models were.
Someone mentioned Beyonce, another yelled “My mummy,” while a prefect at the back mentioned Wole Soyinka.

The principal responded that anyone can be our role models; as long as we remember that they are more than the things we admire about them.
He urged us to let people inspire us, but we should acknowledge that to be human is to be imperfect.

And without knowing, that simple advice that I dredged from my subconscious has softened the blow of many disappointments; even the ones I inflicted on myself.