Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Today and always, poetry with their stirring words will serve, nouns will choke verbs used to describe any action. Diagram this sentence too: Those who know themselves, those named before anything named them, those Igbo, those brilliant, all those that belong to Onyelo, will burn a tune you will hum forever. Wait for it…

These words were from another post I wrote last year. They eloquently describe my state of mind these days. I have been slow with writing these days. Trying to close out the wintry months will make you slow. But yesterday, my eyes greeted magnolias that can only be described as love. See the winter came with some heavy dose of tribulations from people who tried their damnest to put a stain on my name. Yet still they forget I am Igbo. Ahamefuna. It can never happen not when we know who we are and who we belong too. Not when we bloom like sweet magnolias. In case it’s still not clear, we are writing the story of our life. Thank you for the chapter called the point of a struggle. I have learnt these days that in life you will struggle and when the struggle comes, embrace all the colors its brings. At first you will fight it. Why struggle you may even say. Then suddenly you will find yourself adapting to it, find yourself seeking even assets buried within the struggle. Then against all odds, you will let your authentic self bloom even in the middle of struggles. This is the point of the struggle something that will help me close out this chapter. The devil tried me this winter. Definitely lied and tried to put a stain on a name they have no idea what it takes to name anyone Isioma. We were always and I mean always destined to be ahead of the curve. Do your worst, tell all your lies and be prepared for what the legion behind that name will do. Our magnolia’s are finally blooming. We have been waiting for this moment. One where our joy is finally coming in the morning with these magnolias blooming around our home and great is he that is in us. Let see what lies they will tell next. In end, never forget that the story will always belong to us. From the one named Onyelo, we hope this chokes anyone who fails to understand that it’s our story, our name, our legacy. Write your own. Ooh and imagine going after the offspring of the one named Onyelo, Mama Ocha’s struggle. In Pidgin, no be today and dem no born una well. We ready…And this, this is the point of a struggle. Keep it.