A TIME BEFORE NOW

Watching the sun hide behind the horizon is beautiful,

Its golden farewell painting the world in soft hues.

Watching waves rock the boat at the shore is beautiful,

A lullaby for restless waters, whispering secrets of the deep.

Watching seabirds parade the sky in search of a meal is beautiful,

Their cries a melody, their flight a dance against the heavens.

Watching the stars decorate the night sky is beautiful,

Tiny lanterns scattered across the canvas of eternity.

Watching the candle burn as stories unfold is beautiful,

Its flickering flame cast shadows of a world long gone.

The night candle always brings shadows to life,

Especially when Mama speaks of what once was.

Her voice, a bridge to a time before we were born,

Carries tales that are sometimes strange, sometimes haunting,

And sometimes wrapped in laughter that echoes like music.

My siblings and I would sit frozen in place,

Glue to the floor, imagining figures that breathed in the dark.

Like Aunty Nkem on NTA, who told stories by moonlight,

We looked forward to Mama’s old tales.

She told us about her parents and their parents,

Of lives woven together by tradition and memory.

Her words were threads connecting us to a world

We could only dream of knowing.

Mama spoke of her grandfather an idolater, she said,

Who lived and died in the shadow of his gods.

She was a girl then, watching as life unfolded differently.

From birth to death, every moment seemed wrapped

In rituals that felt both strange and sacred.

Life, she said, was simpler then

They had all the fun the world could offer.

Children played into the night and through the early dawn,

And parents didn’t go searching for them as they do now.

Children didn’t vanish like whispers carried away by the wind.

Families didn’t plot against one another like they do now.

She told us how traditions were honored,

Respected, feared like the masquerade that danced in shadows.

She said her grandfather’s feet danced one last time,

To the rhythm of a local gaiter at his burial.

Graves were dug deep, underground,

And because death was rare,

The tomb became a family sanctuary.

Each time another soul was brought to rest,

The men would speak to the dead,

Asking permission to lay another body beside them.

Mama told us so many stories.

Their world seemed pure, untouched by the chaos we now know.

A time when the earth hummed with harmony,

When life moved to the rhythm of shared laughter and sacred bonds.

But as the candle flickered and her voice softened,

We couldn’t help but wonder

Where did that purity go?