Hallelujah, these hands move again.

I had thought I’d be one to boast of always having something to write. That my hands, no matter what moments, can always find words to pour out. Until life happened. And gradually, the word counts reduced. Countless thoughts unexpressed. Numerous one to two lines that never filled the pages. And finally, a gradual grinding to halt. Till WhatsApp status became the custodian for the leftover of disconnected thoughts.

How are the mighty fallen!

Like Samson, many failed attempts to rekindle the fire. To lit the words up and let them burn down, their ashes making indelible impact on the pages of my notepad. But no. The pen had dried, the fingers were stiff.

What used to be a joy, now become an herculean endeavor
What flowed with ease, now become stiff

I didn’t know life could be that strong
Strong enough to wrestle this gift with me

But here I am
Apparently, life isn’t strong enough
Life’s muscles are fickle in the face of passion
Life dealt me a deadly blow
But there was strength I knew not of

Here I am,
And I’m grateful
These hands write again

I am theimisiOluwa.

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