Why? The Moon and My Tears
It's 1996, I am 30 years old, and I just finished my National Youth Service Corp (NYSC) in Nigeria. I was quite healthy that period with occasional crises mixed with the frustration of finding a job and the criticism of my brother and his friends tagging me as weak and a burden. I was really pained and on my lowest ebb.
Longing for more
I wanted to be independent so badly. Be my own man and live my own life. After much struggle, I got a sales job which I did for 3 months. I worked in an Immunology laboratory for 4yrs and then went back for a master's degree.
All through my battles with HbSS I learnt 2 things, 'No One Is To Be Blamed and Never Ask, Why Me'. It was my philosophy. Carry your load and walk the mile: the end is for all, healthy or sick. Every age dies so the beautiful flowers.
This period in my life taught me what tears meant and how rich it is to the soul. I cried buckets of tears and each drop with muttering straight to God. Not complaining but painting my liberation. It unburdened my soul. I used to refer to myself as 'The King Of Pain' and listened to Shade's King Of Pain. And Back On My Feet Again by Michael Bolten.
Who knows our tears are not vain.
Often the full moon comes out. I will stare long and hard and in deep silent thoughts, wondering if God is watching like the moon, seeing my travail.
Like the river, life ebbs but always rises again. Never fall and stay there, arise and walk into your dreams... why? The moon and my tears.
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