Harvest Light.

One of my first memories of you

was a night NEPA took the light.

The house hummed with cousins,

mosquitoes buzzing, heat pressing close.

You were the only bright thing,

calm above the noise,

watching while the world spun small.

I did not think of you as beautiful then.

Later, when I grew older,

boys told lies beneath your glow,

pointed at you as if you belonged to them.

You never did.

You just shone, steady and indifferent,

silent in your patience.

Soon you will rise,

before my birthday,

and I will be turning thirty-nine just days after you pass.

I write to you in advance,

so when you appear,

you will know what I hope to carry.

You have watched me through versions of myself,

through restless hopes, small mistakes, laughter, and prayers.

You never interfered.

You simply kept your place, kept your light.

I admire your patience.

You fade and return without explanation.

You change shape but never lose yourself.

You remind me that disappearance is not the end,

only a pause.

I want to live like that,

sure of my rhythm, at peace with my cycles.

I think of you as a teacher,

quiet in your constancy,

never asking to be noticed,

holding your phases,

never forgetting who you are.

These are lessons I am still learning.

Thirty-nine feels like a doorway,

one foot in the familiar,

one foot in what comes next.

I do not know what waits on the other side,

but when I look at you,

I see proof that change does not mean loss.

You have waxed and waned for centuries,

and still you are whole.

Tonight I write in advance,

letting my words drift toward you,

so when you rise,

I will be ready

to meet your light

as I have all my life.

I do not ask anything of you.

I only watch, only remember,

only feel the quiet promise

that comes with your arrival.

Soon, you will appear,

and I will be there,

my thirty-ninth year waiting in the hush,

sharing the night that has always belonged to us.

Poet's Note:

NEPA stands for the "National Electric Power Authority" in Nigeria. The name keeps changing but that's what everyone still calls it.