I have a treasure trove of memories from my joyful childhood days.
Unlike some who bitterly recount painful experiences, particularly from childhood abuses, my story is different. Astonishingly, my parents provided me with the best upbringing a happy child could ever deserve. I had a plethora of toys and study materials, exclusively bestowed upon affectionate children. I was a lovebird to my parents.
I deserved such love due to the charismatic habits destined for me, filled with compassion and emotional intelligence, as attested by family and friends. Despite my privileged childhood, it didn’t breed selfishness or feelings of superiority; instead, it wrapped me in an emblem of simplicity of the highest order. I firmly believe that good parenting brings out the best in every child.
My unique thinking patterns, moulded by the love of my parents, led me to write poems. I questioned everything, filling my childhood self with answers not every adult knows. I remember asking our primary science teacher why we don’t sometimes feel upside down if the earth is truly spherical. Despite having excellent teachers, I recall he failed to provide a suitable and calming answer.
I faced challenges in expressing my curiosity, sometimes silenced by teachers for asking age-inappropriate questions. They even commented in private about my advanced queries. These experiences fueled my out-of-the-box thinking, pushing me to find ways to quench my curiosity.
I resolved to write tirelessly, believing it would have a significant impact on the world. My courage paid off as I started letting my pen bleed. I will continue feeding it with unceasing curiosity, confident that it will continue to produce beautiful creations.
Melody of Miracles by Ibrahim Umar Salihu, Nigerian
A handful of love graced my way
An ankle of fate, freeing my day
Thank you, Lord, for winning me.
Childhood's cup, brimming and grand
Uncle and Dad, pillars that stand
Thank you, boss, for winning my heart.
My childhood self yearns to write
Dad, my muse, on whom I'll alight
Lad, you won't lose my love.
Support's clamps made me wise
Lifting me to the skies
Oh, how I wish I pushed back and forth.
Bards get hurt, and tales unfold
Love, lust, or marketing, stories retold
I won't mislead my thoughts.
Thinking while hoping, I shall write
Rapt, dropping short lines in the night
Alas, I rose, fell, and broke.
The thoughts in my head wouldn't write
Felt I could, but wrote nothing in spite
Sat down, sang, and danced.
Running from friends won't heal
Married loneliness, styled my zeal
To work out, I ran, to stay healthy and real.
By His good grace, a miracle healed
In just a night, I saw I write
And after I wrote, I wished for rhythm.
Myxee's Pen, a dance of words unfurled
In the symphony of life, a poetic swirl
Thank you, buddy, you made it real
