Janus: Ehm..hi guys? I had to show up here. Somehow. How’s your..?

T-baby: >_>

Janus: Okay,’s offering is Teleola’s. The next voice you shall hear is hers.

I’m out.


I rise
from my bed too short, from my blanket too narrow.
We have turned, again, to the sun
and the tears fall as the dawn breaks.
like a mouse’s pulse.
Unlike Atlas I know not my sin
but like him I carry it all
all on scrawny stunted shoulders.
Weak, frail, forsaken
Yeshua, save me.

I tilled my land and spread my oats
spring in step I cast my seeds.
The sun came and turned green brown
the sun came and burned it all down.
I fell seven, stood seven and some
seven and some miserly inches.
Dark tunnels, too far their lights
this dark tunnel, an ending not in sight.
Head bent, I asked when it will end.
Taciturn Yeshua.


A nudge on my knee
lifting my head, a figure is before me
“What is this tug on my sleeve?
Little girl, who are you, what is this pull?”
She pulls me through memories of times past and the journey to my here.
Thump-thump, Thump-thump
Of course I am human.
She leads me to my bed, now, not so short
my blanket, now, not so narrow
singing odes that lull me to sleep
while I dream dreams long forgotten.
I am in awe of what she can do.
This little girl called Hope.



Nitor translates to Hope, in some arcane language I think.

DO follow us on Twitter @janus_aneni and @tele_ola

GOD Bless Nigeria.

Author: Christopher Aneni

Histrionic| Creator| god.

6 thoughts on “Nitor”

  1. Great stuff. Depth achieved without complexity. The way you didn’t even have to make this piece a dramatic one got me smiling.

    But there’s one flaw to the poem. Enjabments weren’t perfectly utilised. Or should I say imperfect use of punctuations. I think.


  2. No. I will not be tired of hyping Tele. No, I will not.

    I’m not here to critique, just here to adore and say, girl, this is beautiful! I think if anyone reads this post with a mind to just be…blessed…by it, one would realize that this piece is almost like God directed Tele’s hand and…wrote.

    I liked the way the rhythm sashayed in my head.
    I like that I understood.
    I like that even though I haven’t figured out how to get Yeshua to speak to me, there is still Hope.

    Thanks, Tele.


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