ESTHER OKEKWUO Poems

He invited me to dine
He gave me some wine
He made me cross the line
He gave His stamp with a sign
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To the unknown God,
who sits not on necklaces of gold
or bricks men mold.
Who sees your calabashes of clay
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Like a deconstructed work of art, uninvited lines of brush strokes, extra splashes of colour and every other artistic mistake can only make sense once you stare at it. So what looks strange begins to make perfect sense as it is actually telling the truth about life.

We make mistakes. Wrong decisions, wrong choices, wrong associations, wrong relationships, something not just right happens. The beauty about mistakes is the ability to gain something meaningful from it - at least one way not to do something!
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