You’ve been wondering if I ever forgave you.

If I’ll ever text or call.

It probably feels unreal that I haven’t.

You thought I’d come running back, like I always did after your disrespect.

I know it shocked you.

You didn’t expect silence to sound this loud.

But I’m not your mother.

I don’t take abuse and wear it like a crown just to keep a man’s surname.

You treated me the same way your father treated your mother.

The only difference is, she gave him children and I didn’t.

And that’s my freedom.

Because I could never let my kids watch me fight your demons,

like she fought his,

thinking she owed you something

for the pain she never deserved.

I hope you heal. But not for me.

For the next woman you think you can break.

It’s been more than a minute, hasn’t it?

I’m not even sure if I should explain myself or just keep living my life and let you see for yourself why I’ve been quiet. The evidence will start showing soon, lol. No, I’m not pregnant, hahaha, and no, I’m not married yet. But I’m finally enjoying the beautiful fruits that have grown from the prayer seeds I planted a while ago.

It’s true what they say, time really does belong to God. When you finally reach that place where He wants you to be, you realise that the blessing actually needed you to grow. If He had given it to you at the time you were asking for it, you probably would have destroyed it because you just weren’t ready.

Let me stop with the theatrics.

What a God! What a God!

I just wanted to come back here to remind you that God loves you. He is a good God. May you experience Him deeply. I pray that you encounter God for yourself in such a real and personal way that you can boldly say, “Truly, God has revealed Himself to me.”

May He prove Himself great and mighty in your life. May He touch your heart, heal your wounds, restore your dignity and enlarge your territory. May the God I serve honour you. May He place you in positions of influence and grant you the favour to lead with wisdom and grace.

May you have the strength to trust Him even when you don’t understand His plans. Always remember that His plans for you are good, to prosper you and to give you a future filled with hope.

I pray that you remain safe and protected under His powerful hand. May your family always have reason to celebrate and enjoy good health. May you grow strong and wise, and may your source of income never run dry. Let the works of your hands multiply.

I came back to pray for you, child of God, especially if you’re tired today, feeling anxious or even suicidal. Your Father is right there with you. Allow Him to guide you. Let Him lead you. He will never send you astray.

Give God the battle now, because He never loses.

I need you

Call me… I will answer

Today I ma in my work uniform, yes I am wearing Corporate clothes, my navy blue corporate dress, my black top and navy blazer and I have lost weight, my waist is snatched and my hips don’t lie, let me tell you, lol, I feel bad for saying this especially on this here platform but my booty is like 2 planets, YES INDEED! my booty is growing and I love it. I thought its all in my head until 3 people said “Wow, your body” hai hai hai, FIRE! I am happy fam, I’ve been dieting, I’ve been skipping rope, I take walks and I was so disappointed when I discovered that I only lost 1kg, last week I lost 1 kg again and I dont like these ones I keep getting but I am glad its showing.

Thats it, thats the post, I lost weight

You have become the quiet question lingering at the edges of their thoughts, a presence too sacred to name, too alive to ignore.

They sense you in the clarity of my skin that now seems to hold light instead of history, in the way joy curves at the corners of my mouth like it was born there, and in the way my body moves like it has been rewritten by a man who knows how to hold something sacred without breaking it.

They do not ask about you directly, not because they do not want to know, but because something about you feels too spiritual to handle with casual conversation.

So they watch instead, trying to make sense of the new rhythm in my steps, the softness in my laughter, the grace in my silence.

And in their watching, they wonder what kind of love would move a woman to carry herself like a prayer answered in full.

So I place you gently into the folds of my poetry, not to hide you but to honour you in a way the world does not deserve yet.

I invite confusion like incense, thick and lingering, let their curiosity circle me while they try to trace the shape of you between my metaphors and metaphysical hints.

They ask themselves quietly, does someone hold her when the dark feels too heavy to bear alone, does he know how often her mind runs ahead of her heart and stay anyway, does he pray for her, does he speak to her gently even when the world forgets she is tender?

They read my words like scripture, searching for a slip of your name or a glimpse of your form, hoping for the soft launch of your hand in a photo or a sentence that reveals the curve of your voice.

But you are already written in the bones of every verse I’ve ever breathed, present in the pauses, the silences, the breath between words where your spirit lingers quietly.

You are the unspoken rhythm in my stanzas, the unseen presence that steadies me when the world tries to pull me apart.

You are the echo of my joy, the balm in my unraveling, the soul behind every strength I try to name.

Your love shows up not in grand declarations, but in the quiet ways you remain, even when I flinch, even when I falter, even when I forget that I am worthy of something that stays.

You have stood beside the breaking of me not as a man trying to rescue what he does not understand but as someone who has looked into the chaos and chosen to love me there.

And though I often write about you as if you are distant, the truth is you have never once let me feel alone in the places I fear the most.

You once told me that your love is loud, that it wants to be seen and heard and named in public spaces, that it wants to take up space beside me where the world can see us and know that this is what prayer answered looks like.

But then you looked at me with eyes full of understanding and said that if I am not ready to live that out loud, then you will wait with me in the quiet, that your love will never ask more of me than I am ready to give.

I know those words came with the weight of silence pressed against your throat, like glass crushed in the mouth, but still you kissed my forehead and chose patience over pride.

And I do not know how to tell you that it is not shame that keeps me quiet, but reverence, that I want to protect what we are because the world is careless with sacred things.

I want you to myself, not in secret but in intimacy, in a space where there is no performance, only truth, only presence, only you and I in the fullness of our becoming.

You do not allow the world to touch what we have with dirty hands or careless tongues, and for that I love you more than words will ever reach.

You stand before me when storms rise, not as a shield but as a promise, as someone who has decided that our love is worth defending even when no one is watching.

And now I write about learning to be open, to be soft, to let the past go quietly and receive love without suspicion, but they do not know that it is your hands that have taught me how to do that.

I write about the goodness of God and the depth of His mercy, but they do not know that it is you who brings our names to the altar when my lips cannot form the prayers, that it is your faith that holds us steady when mine forgets how to stand still.

You breathe them into being, inhale my fear and exhale it as courage, take my shame and return it as grace, hold my insecurities and hand them back to me as wonder. You make me feel not just beautiful but known, not just wanted but chosen, not just seen but deeply understood in the places I have spent years hiding. You do not merely inspire my words, you live inside them, you haunt the syllables in the holiest way, you are the breath in every beat of rhythm I lay down.

And when they ask who I write for, who has made me this woman of light and softness and strength, I say nothing.

Because some names are not meant to be spoken.

Some names are meant to be lived.

Tonight, my heart’s racing as I sit in my new home. my first night here, and it’s a lot to take in. This isn’t an apartment with tenants nearby; it’s just me. I’m a little scared, to be honest. I know God’s got me, and His angels are watching over me, but sometimes I feel like people forget I’m just a girl navigating all this So, please keep me in your prayers.

I’m grateful my car is safe, but I’m a bit worried about the company car I’m responsible for. Living on one of the busiest streets as a woman managing two vehicles feels overwhelming. If you could send some prayers my way for peace and protection, I’d appreciate it.

This house has stunning, tall walls with high ceilings that I absolutely adore. In my old place, I’d poke holes in the walls without a second thought, leaving chaos behind. But here, I want to keep these walls pristine. I have a ton of art I’m dying to display, though! Any suggestions for mounting art without damaging or dirtying the walls? I’d love to hear your ideas.

Then there’s my glass front door it’s gorgeous but makes me feel exposed, especially at night when the lights are on. I’m unpacking, exhausted, and barely able to think straight. What can I put on the glass door to make it more private and secure without losing its charm? I’d welcome any tips.

My lounge could use some new couches to really bring it to life, but honestly, I’m just thankful for what I have. God is good, and I trust He’ll provide as I settle in. Speaking of settling in, this house is freezing! I meant to fix my heaters before moving, but the stress of it all got in the way, and now I’m here with no heat. Lesson learned: plan better next time.

I’m nervous tonight, maybe even a little scared, but I know that all of heaven surrounds me, so I rest in that. I declare that I am safe, and I’m grateful. Here’s to new beginnings in this beautiful space.

I’ve seen the footprints of where you’ve been. Dusty trails of pain covered in the perfume you wore just to mask the smell of betrayal. I’ve listened to the same story on repeat, not because you forgot, but because it still hurts, and no one ever held space long enough for you to let the pain finish its sentence.

I hear the break in your voice when you speak like you don’t want anyone to notice. But I notice. I always notice.

The world hasn’t been gentle to you. I see it in the way your shoulders never really rest, like they’re waiting for the next blow. But even with all that weight, you still carry grace like a crown you made yourself.

And I don’t understand how you’re still kind after people called you every name except child of God. I don’t understand how you still smile with teeth that have bitten back more tears than most could handle. But I do know this. You are holy. You are still here. And you still shine.

So let me be clear. I don’t say things just to make the silence sound pretty. I don’t drop lines to get your attention. I speak promises with God as my witness, and I vow I will not hurt you.

I understand now why you keep your heart behind walls thick as prayer. I understand why you walk like a storm and rest like a secret. Thank you for still letting me see you. Thank you for showing up with your wounds open and calling it courage.

You wear forgiveness like a robe and grace like it’s sewn into your skin. You smile at people who threw dirt on your name like it didn’t bury you once. That right there. That’s royalty. That’s why I love you. That’s why this love will never be selfish.

See, this is not about just making you feel good. This is about making you feel seen. You will never have to shrink to fit inside this love. You will never have to yell just to be heard. I see you. All of you. Even the parts you don’t post about.

You will never question if I honor your presence. I will bow. Yes, bow at the sight of you because you are a temple. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re cracked wide open. Even when you’ve lost everything except your breath.

And when you rise, when the world finally sees the king I already see, I will be there clapping the loudest. Not because I need your shine, but because I helped you remember you were the light all along.

And let’s not pretend. I know your heart doesn’t trust easily. You’ve been handed poems before that turned into chains. I know you’ve had your fill of empty words and lips that loved convenience, not commitment.

So maybe you don’t believe in assurance anymore. Maybe you think it’s childish, a fantasy cooked up by people who’ve never been lied to.

But I see you