I question my world. When did hate ever answer anything?
Tag: #Hatred
Hope Rising…Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge.
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Hold on to your hope; for hope is the leaven that bakes the bread of your expectation – Jacqueline
Hope Rising
****
Even when my breath falters in trepidation
hope burgeons within my soul.
For the spirit of light
must outshine the pitch of darkness
and the strength of love
bends the hopeless state of hatred.
Indeed,
Our Hope in humanity must arise
even in the midst of dire crisis.
**
Giving up hope is as good as giving up breathing because each day that we live, we are faced with challenges that require the strength of our hope, faith and courage to get through.
Sometimes dire situations can cause us to become despondent, however, there are various ways of holding on to your hope whilst you walk through a situation. One can’t just roll over and give up. We’ve got to keep holding on to hope, walking our way through, for no circumstance is permanent.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Below is my first Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.
When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.
Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha’s poems portray images that stare us right in the face. Images of love, joy, death, pain, challenges, violation, and freedom. She writes in a language that’s rich in imagery, earthy, honest, vulnerable, yet full of the promise of hope, of loving and of Grace. A collection of light and dark soulful prose.
Let Go and Live!…
Until we let go
of all the hatred
and embrace
the light of love
DARKNESS
will remain a companion.
♥
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
“May perpetual light shine on the souls of the departed in Orlando, and may their families find the grace to heal.”
Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.
When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.
She is amazing at describing love and life in her poems. She creates such beautiful images with her words. Truly, she is a talented writer and I’m so excited to have her poetry book and to continue reading through it.
Mind Games…
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He felt such deep shame within him.
Shame that his friends would mock him if they ever got to know that he was doing such demeaning job.
Washing toilets! Cleaning up for women.
As a man raised to believe that women are just an inch less than a chattel, it was an insult to have to wash the ladies wash room and to serve them.
His thoughts were that the ladies were equally making mockery of him. He felt that their sniggers and giggles were all aimed at unmanning him.
Even the female supervisor always complained on how poorly he did his job or how slow he was.
How he disliked those her kohl darkened eyes. He always tortured her the most in his mind.
In his mind, he beat them up several times over in a day and enjoyed the mind games that he played, taunting them until they begged for mercy.
On days he got carried away with his warped imagination, he decided to contaminate the water in their dispenser with his urine.
It was his turn to snigger as he watched them take cups of water to drink and natter as they normally do and each time, he went back to his shared quarters feeling satisfied.
Unfortunately, his small-mindedness failed to remember that the tiny pin-prick cameras picked up every little detail that went on in the office.
When he was discovered, he really got to feel the pinches, jabs and painful barbs of his so-called weaker opponents and the iron-faced Eunuch taught him a lesson by that he would not be forgetting in a hurry.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In my usual way, I found some articles that caught my attention. Have a look.
How to destroy a person’s self worth by Knotholes and Textures.
Balls grow a Vagina by Edwina Episodes.
Embrace Rejection from Kay Morris.
When did pitter patter change? From Yelobrd777
To Love from Diane of Lady who lunch reviews.
The past can’t be changed from Success Inspirer
Dylann, why? I ask…
I sit here staring at my laptop, trying to finish the story that I am writing but I simply can’t. It is not that I don’t want to, because I believe it will make an interesting read, but just that the sadness I feel at the moment almost makes it impossible for me to think of any other thing, other than the thought that consumes my mind.
I am perplexed at the senseless killing of nine people in Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, in Charleston, South Carolina. I do not know these victims in any way, but I hurt because they are humans just like me. I hurt at the way innocent lives were cut short. I hurt over the fact that a House of refuge and prayer was turned into a grizzly house of horror.
I pulled up the photo of the suspected perpetrator and spent quite some time looking at his young face, trying to decipher how one this young could bear such amount of hatred, bitterness and racism in his heart. Trying to decipher how he could have sat for an hour in the aura and midst of these people and still shot them in cold blood?
Was the preaching not to his liking? I questioned no one in particular.
What could have triggered premeditated murder such as this? No answers yet.
Twenty one years ago was just 1994, so it is very logical to assume that neither did this young man participate or benefit from slave trade, nor did he fight in the civil war. He was not born during the time of heated racial movement, except for recent sporadic police killing; so what could be his vexation? I am struggling to deduce what could be in the crazed mind of this young fellow.
If my little knowledge of American history serves me right, it has been more than a century and half that the civil war and slavery ended on the soil of The United States of America, yet happenings in recent times makes one begin to question if the racism existing in this vibrant nation does not portend far more danger than it is being glossed over to portray. It does seem for all intents and purpose that the black race is an endangered species in The United States of America. Slavery ended ages ago, yet the ghosts of slavery and second hand citizenry lingers on, consistently raising its rancid and ugly head.
I question what precepts and perceptions he was indoctrinated with. What kind of nurturing did this young man have; what could have transpired in his life and heart to arrive at this juncture? Is love so dead to some people that cutting down lives of other people becomes a mere pastime?
He has not only shed innocent blood, but he has equally broken the hearts of so many; and I dare hope his families own too by his actions. He has injured even those who look on from afar.
Why is racism feeding fat in America?
Are there any scientific or biblical proof that one race is really superior to the other?
Does any human have other elements flowing through their veins other than red blood?
Are we not all mortals who live and die at some point in our lives; or are some privileged not to die in the way known to man?
Forgive my ramblings, but I ask these rhetoric questions in sad wonder at how we got it all wrong.
May perpetual light shine on the departed and may their souls rest in peace.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
“Hatred, ignorance and greed are killing nature and hatred always hurts the hater most“. Masanobu Fukuoka.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 