By Toluwalogo Niji-Olawepo
I am a writer. Not a carpenter.
You can call me God. Yes. I am He. He is me.
He, who into darkness entered and
Brought forth the planets.
Call it Bing Bang or whatever.
It all began inside His soul and then it
Came to be. And I am Him,
For out of the darkness of my soul,
This that you read came forth. From
The chaos of my mind I dragged it out.
Bing bang theory. I colluded. Collided. Choked. Drowned. Vomited.
Breathed. Lived. From within my soul I
Called it forth. Because
I am a writer. Not a carpenter.
I am a writer. Not a carpenter.
You can call me poor. I am the poorest.
I have no raw materials with which to work.
No saw, no danger, no trees on which to paint my dreams.
I have nothing but this null and voidness.
I cannot cut down trees to build tables.
I cannot wield chainsaws to create chairs.
Nothing but silence and chaos.
Still I have to hover and wander
And call forth. Because
I am a writer. Not a carpenter.
Toluwalogo Niji-Olawepo is a poet and creative writer from Nigeria whose works, ranging from poetry to short fiction have been published or are forthcoming in Asterlit, Noisystreetss and Eboquills, among others. You can follow them on instagram @tioluwaniogo
This is beautiful 🤗
Awesome!!!
This was soo beautiful to read.. And maybe I could relate a bit, as I’m also a writer not a carpenter. Most times 😅😅
Well-done ❤
A beautiful poem. 🙂👏🏽