They told us hunger doesn’t kill.
That’s a lie.
When hunger makes you do what you vowed not to do. It didn’t just kill you. It damaged you 🥹…
When you smell your soul and perceive rotten eggs, the odour alone sends you 6ft below ground level multiple times..
Hunger kills 🥹
# African Motherhood In the heat of the sun, she toils and bears, A pillar of strength, through joy and despair. Her husband’s infidelity, a weight on her chest, Yet she stands tall, a fortress, unbroken and blessed. ka odiri Chukwu, she prays with a sigh, ”Let it be left for God,” as she wipes away her tears, and dries her eyes. Four girls, no boy, a societal shame, But she beams with pride, at her daughters’ names. Childless, she’s labeled, a woman incomplete, But she knows her worth, in the love she creates. Expected to be a wife, and bring to the table too, She works hard, and provides, with a spirit anew. In the midst of struggles, she finds her voice, A warrior, a mother, a queen, a choice. She rises above, the societal norms, And forges her path, with a heart that storms. Her strength is her shield, her resilience her might, She faces each day, with a courageous light. ka odiri Chukwu, she trusts in God’s plan, And finds solace, in the love of her clan. She’s the backbone, the heart, and the soul, Of the African family, she’s the goal. Her story’s one, of trials and strife, But also of triumph, and a life worth living, rife. So let’s celebrate, this African queen, A mother, a warrior, a woman serene. her story’s told, Of strength, resilience, and a heart of gold, Ugochukwu!
“Life isn’t meant to be fair to you” one of my priest told me this in secondary school and I kept thinking why.
Life isn’t black and white
It isn’t a bed of roses
It isn’t meant to favour you
Sometimes is not just about hard work, there’s also a thing called GRACE.
So in life, we should all work, pray and ask for sufficient grace…
My first blog
© Versatile Paraclete 🤗
She our pride
With a dark radiant skin
A skin where beauty bide
She my African pride
Even if shackled shines
Turns pains to gains
A heart warmer than a furnace
Wilderness and tenderness
Soft on the inside
But not a weakness
In love she resides
She my African pride
Ferocious she’s a tigress
Loving so kindhearted
Nothing can bind
Her my African pride
This realization
Drives me to a conclusion
To praise without preclusion
Nothing matches my African women’s adoration
Calloused Crowns:
(Encomium of African Motherhood & Resilience)
By: Zosu Selome Elisha
(Penname: Quill Scribbler 🪶)
Contact Information:
Email: selomelisha@gmail.com
Phone: 08164597315
Calloused Crowns
(Encomium of African Motherhood & Resilience)
By Quill 🪶
She does not wait for dawn—
dawn waits for her.
Her hands are calloused crowns,
palms carved with sacrifice.
Her back bends, yet does not break.
She has buried sons to hunger,
daughters to silence,
dreams to the hunger of nations.
Still she rises, still she sings—
still she will not break.
African motherhood is not softness;
it is steel wrapped in tenderness.
A river that carves valleys of stone,
a drum that beats even cracked.
Her song says: we do not break.
The nation forgets her often,
yet it is on her chest it has slept.
Her milk, her sweat, her blood—
the verses of survival.
Still she whispers: we do not break.
Writer’s Bio:
Zosu Selome Elisha writes under the pen name Quill Scribbler 🪶. An African storyteller at heart, his work leans into the raw edges of life—grief, resilience, love, and the quiet power of memory. His style blends raw emotion with vivid imagery, often weaving ordinary life into timeless metaphors. He believes words can hold both wounds and healing, both silence and song. Through poetry and prose, he seeks to honor the unseen, give language to survival, and remind readers that even in the darkest night, ink can still bloom into light.
