PREFACE

In the darkness of night, when the world is hushed and the moon dances
among the clouds, moments of inspiration come alive. It is within the
enigmatic beauty of these midnight hours that our thoughts and
emotions flow freely, and I poured mine into the pages of this
anthology.“10 Droplets of Midnight Rain” is a collection of ten poems
that deliberate the profound and introspective nature of life’s many
facets. Each poem delves deep into the core of existence, offering
unique perspective and stirring emotions.

Within these pages, you will find ten explorations of the human
experience. Through the artistry of words, this will be a journey of self-
discovery urging us to reflect on the intricacies of Love, Loss, passion,
insecurities, hate, sexual violence and resilience. The poems are written
with brutal honesty and celebrate the negative as well as positive
aspects of human nature. As you embark on this journey, may these ten
droplets of midnight rain resonate with your own experiences. May you
find solace, inspiration, and a renewed sense of wonder amidst the
profound insights that await within these pages

Welcome to “10 Droplets of Midnight Rain” a collection that unravels

the mysteries of life , one poem at a time

Enongene Doris M.
 10 Droplets of Midnight Rain

I WANT YOU.......................................................................................... 4

HOW ARE YOU? ................................................................................... 9

SAVED AND STRUGGLING ................................................................ 14

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE .......................................................................... 18

BROKEN HOME .................................................................................. 22

THE INDISPENSABLE NEED FOR CHANGE.................................... 26

TRUSTING THE NON STRANGER ..................................................... 30

IT IS MY BODY ..................................................................................... 35

INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS ...................................................................... 40

LOVE, THE GOD ................................................................................. 45

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS .................................................................... 48

BACKGROUND TO THE POEMS ....................................................... 49

I WANT YOU
A shadow,
A pixel dust in a violent wind.
A wounded sheep ,
Lost in a pack of wolves.
Like an abomination ,
I don’t belong anywhere,
Yet, like a scalar,
I find myself everywhere,
I have no friends,
Yet I am never alone.
My demons…
My demons, they stay with me.
But I’d rather have them than have nobody.
No one ever gets me,
They all say they do, but they don’t.
You see…
I want company, yet I love solitude.
I want happy ever after, yet to scared to love.
How I wish I could be normal,

Oh No! scratch that, I hate normal.

Early morning coffees,
Dinner dates,
Happy walks,
All that makes me sick.
But who am I kidding,
I really want all of this.
I guess what really makes me sick is me,
Yeah me!
My tall but not tall enough,
Slim but not slim enough,
Pretty but always second choice self.
I’m sick of me.
I don’t want to be me.
I want to be non-existent.
I want to be free.
Free from the judging eyes,
Telling me its going to be ok.
Well it isn’t and it never will.
Why do they make me lie?
I say I am ok..
But I have never been more not ok.
Please make it stop.
The voices, they keep echoing.
How are you?
How are you?
How are you?
Can’t they see?
I’m a walking corpse.
Can’t they see?
I’m loosing my mind.
Can’t you see?
I’m depressed.
Can’t you see?
I’m obsessed.
Obsessed with a me I can never be.
But I didn’t choose this,
I didn’t choose to hate me,
I didn’t choose the devil within,
He chose me.
And he told me he loved me.
Yet he plunged spears to my heart,
Poured blood on my dignity,
Gave me sorrow for eternity.
So I’m here on my knees.
Cause I’m told you’re the way.
The antidote to my poisoned mind.
The light to dissolve this darkness.
The truth.
You could call this my prayer,
Because, honestly I don’t even know how that’s done.
Damn, I don’t even know if you’re listening.
But I heard you work with faith,
And, I don’t have much of that.
But I believe!
Yes! I believe it has been you.
Giving me hope on those rainy days,
Giving me strength at my weakest,
Giving me new reasons to live.
Lord, I surrender.
I no longer want to fight.
So, if you want me, take me,
If you want me Lord, take me,
Cause I want you,
I want you Jesus,
I want you.
HOW ARE YOU?
How are you?
Three words sown together in love.
A question already answered.
Haven’t we all asked it?
Haven’t we all been asked it?
Hasn’t the answer always been the same?
We answer so quickly,
As we force a smile to prove it.
For a second, I wish it were true,
For a second, it is true,
And then it is not.

I am fine.
Three words sown together in defense.
The most repeated lie ever told,
And yet the most believed.
I dare not let them see,
The truth behind this smile of camouflage.
I dare not let them hear.
My heart scream a shout for help.
I dare not let them feel,
The ancestral sorrow buried in make-up.
I dare not say,
I am not fine.
No, I dare not open that tomb,
It’s a tomb of mummy baggage,
Waiting to be awakened.

But, what if?

Just what if they could see?
What if they could hear?
What if they could feel?
What if I let it come to life?
Then what?
Would the air seize from my lungs?
Would my tears turn to blood?
Would my bones shiver in fear?

Would they scorn at my pain?

Or would I finally be free?
And exhale loudly till I hear nothing.
Or would I realise…
I have been fine all along.
Is being fine, being void of pain?
Or is it choosing to acknowledge it?
To acknowledge that life is not without pain.
And pain is only found in living.
Is being fine, being always fine?
Or is it not giving power to challenges?
But having power over challenges.
And knowing I am equal to the task.

So… ask me once again

How are you?...

Indeed, I am fine.
As I feel the air rushing through my lungs,
As I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin,
As I sing a hymn of praise to Yahweh,
As I understand what life is.
Not a bed of roses,
Nor a sea of sweetly melted chocolate..
It’s a race of mountains and valleys,
Of bright and dark paths.
As I run with the gold medal in hand,
I am fine…
And you?
SAVED AND STRUGGLING
2 Corinthians 5:17
Therefore if any man be in Christ he is a new creature. Old things have
passed away; behold, all things are made new
This is my story,
This is my testimony,
Born of the blood.
Born into a new purpose.
I am saved.
So why?

Why do I still battle with the girl I left behind?

I have lost count of the number of times
I have come to you in regret.
Saying sorry with everything I have,
Yet hearing that voice within me say…
“You know you will do it again”
And I hurts, it hurts because I know he is right.
And I know you say I shouldn’t listen to him,
Because he only means to steal, kill and destroy.
But my heart is left vulnerable to his accusations,
And I want to do better; I try to do better,
But good is the best I do lately.
I go to church religiously and not faithfully.
I am more interested in good Sunday pictures than encountering you.
It all feels like a never ending cycle.
One day I am drowning myself in your presence,
Next, I have spent a week without saying hi.
One day I am using your words in battle,
Next, I have forgotten what John 3: 16 says.
So how dare I say I love you!

What is love without faithfulness?

So maybe I don’t love you, or maybe I do.
And maybe I should stop blaming myself
For not being able to love how you love,
And rather love how you told me to.
The walk of salvation is brutal,
I have discovered.
But I have no regrets.
You give endless mercy because you are aware of my imperfections.
I have lost battles,
I have won battles,
But most importantly, you have won the war for me.
No one graduates in this walk.
We are forever learning and growing
Yes, I am saved and struggling.
But I have already won, so says the Lord.
BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
It’s one of those mornings,

I’m looking at the mirror and I don’t like what I see.

I try not to stare too long, lest I fixate on my imperfections.

Running from depression, I turn to shift my gaze.

It was then, right before I looked away

I gave a second glance, a deeper glance

Like I wanted to see with the third eye.

The subject didn’t change, but my intentions did.

How did I not see this before?

How could I have been so blind?

I take a few steps closer to the mirror,

Like one who has never seen her reflection before now.

This time I looked to see beauty,

Not as to how it is described in the magazines,

Or as to how society defines it.

But I looked to see beauty,

As the details we tend to neglect.

I stared into my own eyes so much

I think I saw my soul, full of life.

I had never noticed till today, my lips,

The way they are shaped.

So… different, so…artistic,

Like something poets will run out of words to describe.

I take a few steps back

“There she is” I whisper to myself

“Beautiful”

I say, as a smile slowly creeps in.

Have we ever looked at ourselves?

Have we ever noticed ourselves?

More than we spent time trying to get noticed?

Do you know every scar on your body? Every curve?

Or are we only interested in that which meets approval

Approval of the eyes that look only with judgment?

Could it be that our insecurities

Are a product of how less time we spend

Looking at ourselves

And how much time we spend

Longing to be looked at by others.

Well… today I saw my beauty

I didn’t need make up, nor designer outfits

Nor did I need someone to show me

It has always been right there

Hidden behind my eyes.

BROKEN HOME
There are quite a few things I remember about being a child.

I remember how simple it was,

Living. I mean..

I had very little to worry about.

And no it’s not because I had everything.

Well… yes I did but,

Not everything I wanted,

Just everything I needed.

I remember not knowing everything I needed.

Like how important it is to brush everyday,

How I needed to stop running from my drugs.

Or how I needed a father.

I never knew how much I will need one.

Maybe because my mom is so excellent at being both.

I remember the day I knew I needed him.

It was this dancing ballerina toy,

He brought it himself on my birthday.

I have received so many gifts in my lifetime,

But non can compare to that ballerina.

I will watch her dance till her battery died.

Then I started to need him more often .

I needed him in PTA’s,

I needed him to come back late from work,

So I could jump in his arms in excitement.

I needed him when I took my awards,

I needed him to scold me,

I needed him to scare away boys for me.

I needed him to tell me, nobody was worth his little girl.

Because how could I know?

How could I know I was special?

So mom had to tell me twice as loud,

Love me twice as hard.

Till I made myself believe,

He was just something I wanted.

Jump to the present and,

It took time and grief to see,

To wash away the scales from my eyes.

That my need was not of him

But of us, our family.

My need was of complete family portraits,

And a home with no cracks.

My need was of hugs so strong yet so caring,

I wanted those hugs to last longer than the holidays.

I learnt, it’s more than the question of a broken home

It’s a question of broken dreams

And broken standards.

That little efforts start meaning the world,

That disappointments become expected,

So much so, you start wondering…

Is a home truly meant to be whole or just happy.

Either way I am thankful for mine.

And I am thankful for him

Home or no home, he was family.

THE INDISPENSABLE NEED FOR CHANGE
They tell me,

You have changed lot.

I say, I know, I couldn’t help it.

Because, if it were up to me,

I will choose to remain forever young.

Forever naive, forever unbothered by the cares of the world.

To only worry that a day was too short,

Too short a time to play.

To have a heart that forgives so easily,

To choose chocolates over a million in cash.

But I have changed.

More than I am proud to admit.

Years of heavy rain and sunny days brought me here.

To this person you see standing before you.

To some, to change is to lose my innocence,

While to others, the only way forward is change.

To both I give credit.

I miss the me I used to be.

I miss the little girl, so naïve and free.

Who loved cartoons,

Who got excited for Christmas shopping.

The one who couldn’t see the future,

But was so sure she will rule the world one day.

I miss that girl…

Yet, not as much as I love this girl.

This girl who has been taught she has a choice,

Who has made more bad choices than I dare admit.

Who has learnt how unfair life can be,.

And how truly, naïve is but a phase we all grow from.

Change is scary just as it is unavoidable,

It is beautiful just as it is tragic,

As caterpillars become butterflies,

Change requires you take bold steps,

That you say certain NO’s and YES’

That will alter your life as you have known it to be.

Yet, it is not a proof that the past was bad,

It is a proof that the past must be outgrown.

One step at a time.

It’s not about changing the eyes,

It’s about changing the lens through which we see.

So when you tell me I have changed a lot,

Indeed I have, I couldn’t help it,

I had to advance with the present.

And not stay in the past.

And in as much I am thankful for the past,

I am complete in my present.

I am happy I have changed,

And even though I couldn’t help it,

I can help how I change.

The choices I make.

I may not always make the right ones,

But it’s my story and I’m still writing it.

TRUSTING THE NON STRANGER
I take a taxi.

And have no doubt in me,

I fear not his intentions,

Nor do I harbor misconceptions.

To a degree,

I trust this stranger,

I see no reason to flee,

Sense no sign of danger.

I’m at a restaurant,

Somewhere new… extravagant.,

The waiter brings in the dish,

A glass of wine and smoked fish.

To a degree,

I trust this stranger,

That he won’t poison me

Yet again I see no danger.

I am in love,

We fit like fingers in a glove,

I will take a bullet for him,

We are supposed to be a team.

Yet to a degree,

I trust not this non stranger,

Close my eyes and he’s all I see,

Still, never have I felt more danger.

Not in that he is bad for me,

But in that he is good to me

In that I don’t want that to change,

Because, what if it’s just a stage?

If he were just a taxi,

I will enjoy the ride while it lasted,

If he were just a fish from the sea,

I will all the flesh from his bones shed.

But I want this,

More than a taxi ride.

I fear this,

That I will get use to his side.

I see now, clear in the nonce.

Trust is difficult to give away,

Not to the ones we meet just once,

But to the ones that come to stay.

To the ones we desire to build with,

Who have the password to our weaknesses.

To the ones we desire to grow with,

Who will all our sorrows bear witnesses.

Because why won’t I trust in the driver?

He is but for now.

Why won’t I trust in the waiter?

His leaving doesn’t make my knees bow.

But you, I need to trust not just for today,

Not just for a fraction of reality,

You, I need to give the needle in the stack of hay,

So till I find it, please bare with me.

IT IS MY BODY
Who gave you the right?

To leave your finger prints on my skin.

Who gave you the right?

To creep into my nightmares.

Who gave you the right?

To turn me into your prisoner.

Tell me… who?

Because it wasn’t me.

I remember saying STOP!

Shakingly, repeatedly.

I remember saying NO!

Loudly, tiredly.

I remember saying PLEASE!

Miserably, desperately.

I remember my silence,

Exhausted, finished.

How I stopped fighting

So you could stop hitting.

How I no longer wanted freedom,

Just that the end should come.

I still hear your breathing,

Every inhale, every exhale,

And my skin turns pale.

I could care less about the bruises,

Rather… how is my soul supposed to heal?

Now that it has you attached to it.

A parasite,

Leaching off of every bit of peace in me.

They tell I am lucky I am alive,

But why don’t I feel like it.

I’ve never been more sure about death.

That it is not a state,

It’s a place.

This place you put me in.

Where I no longer see reasons to live.

I wonder, would it be bad if I wished you dead?

I think it would.
I can’t forget the hell I lived.

But I won’t create another,

Even if I could watch you burn in it,

Because I will have to burn too.

In anger, vengeance, hate, unforgiveness.

Truth remains, to kill you,

I will have to die too.

Die to my conscience, my innocence,

Die to any possibility of a second chance.

I no longer feel alive, but I am

This no longer feels like my body

But it is,

It is my body.

It is my life.

And I’m going to live it.

And even if I can’t forget you.

I won’t let myself forget me.

Me before you.

I am not you…

Who does things because they feel like it.

I do things because they are right.

And right now,

What is right is choosing me.

Is choosing to be free.

Is removing the chains you placed to my voice.

This is the end of my silence.

No more PLEASE, STOP, NO!

All I speak is freedom.

All I see is a survivor.

INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS
The mind can be a scary place.

It is a home for the whispers,

The whispers of saints and demons.

One second I am thinking of saving the world

And the next, I want to be its greatest villain.

How I yearn for good things,

Yet imagine every way I can destroy them.

It is the weirdest phenomenon.

I stand by a bridge in admiration,

Then think, what if I jump?

I hold a baby with such care and love,

Then think, what if I drop it?

I reassure myself I am made for greatness,

Then think of putting an end to my existence.

Indeed the mind can be a scary place.

Sometimes it feels like its home to more than just my thoughts,

Because, I can’t possibly be the one thinking these things.

I mean I am not in support of thieves,

But do I really wish a tyre round their necks?

That the flames incinerate even their bones,

And the wind washes away their ashes?

That’s not me!

It can’t be!

I mean I am not in support of terrorists,

But do I really wish to see their skulls hang on sticks?

And watch as maggots disintegrate their flesh,

While the crows feast on what is left of it?

That’s not me!

It can’t be!

So I gave her a name.

My inner thoughts I mean.

The one who comes to convince me of everything wrong,

I call her, miss Intrusive!

Now she is no longer invisible.

Now when she comes again,

I can talk back.

I say loudly, boldly,

Shut up! Miss Intrusive.

Because I can’t let her speak louder than my conscience

I can’t let her speak louder than my calling.

And I know she is a product of my heart.

Because even if it holds so much love,

It is still desperately wicked.

So I stay alert and open to my conscience,

For it is the microphone of the saints.

I can’t lie, she has her victories.

I mean, I have eaten soap, intentionally.

Who does that?

I have punched the wall so hard I bled, for no reason.

Who does that?

I have imagined and planned the death of my enemies

Who does that?!

But so do the saints bear their victories.

I have healed the deepest of wounds with forgiveness.

I do that!

I have sat down and watched the sunset.

I do that!

I have loved in a million shades of hope.

I do that!!

So in as much as I can’t delete her existence,

I have learnt to say,

Loudly, boldly,

Shut up! Miss Intrusive.

LOVE, THE GOD
What is life without love?

What is love made of?

What are the ingredients to this masterpiece?

How does it break me with such ease?

How did I come to know it?

Before all I could do was crave it.

Was it in the first touch of my mother’s arms?

Brightening my heart like a million lambs.

Was it in the melody of my favourite song?

The one I dance too all night long.

Was it in the warmth of a stranger?

The one who made me forget danger.

What is life without love?

Are they true? The rumors I hear of

That it is glorious.

That it’s presence is Miraculous.

That is treacherous,

And its ways, mischievous.

That for all who for it search,

Should be faithful like God to the church.

That it can be found in every heart,

And strikes like a poison dart.

That it can’t be explained with words,

Nor with all the musical chords.

What is Life without Love?

Is its road tender or rough?

I say it is non-existent, impotent.

For it is out of love that life came to fulfillment.

It is not the words we say out of excitement,

It is the very fabric of our human garment.

It is GOD.

Not just in the power of the word,

It is GOD.

Architect and father to the world.

It is not just the main ingredient of our blood

It is love, the GOD.

 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude
and appreciation to all those who have supported and contributed to the
creation of this anthology, “10 Droplets of Midnight Rain”.

First and foremost, I want to thank the readers who have

embraced the power of poetry and have chosen to embark on this
journey with me. it is through your presence and engagement that these
poems find their true purposes, resonating and sparking conversations
that delve into crucial topics within our society.

I am deeply grateful for the mentors and fellow writers who

have provided guidance, inspiration, and constructive feedback during
the process. Special thanks to my editors, MBONG AICHA K. and
TITAH PEACE who worked with and encouraged me throughout the
journey of writing this book.

To my Dad, Late Mr. Enongene Kang Andrew who sparked

the love for literature in me and to my mom, Miss. Ngone Anne Marie
Ebane who made me see it was ok to be science inclined and still love
arts.

Thank you for being part of this journey, my prayer is that at least one
of these poems opened your eyes to a beauty of life you might have
missed.
 BACKGROUND TO THE POEMS
I want you is about someone exhausted with fighting lives challenges
alone. They have gone through a stage of deep depression, one which
make them question if life is worth it. They then turn to the solution
they had been running from (JESUS) because they thought they were
not wanted.

The idea of how are you? came to me one day while texting a friend
and he asked me “How are you?”, should have been an easy answer of
“I am fine” to avoid a long conversation I was not ready for despite me
going through a lot at that moment. I instead went down this deep
reflection on wanting to know how exactly I am.

Saved and Struggling is about the struggles that most Christians face
while they grow in their spirituality. Full of ups and downs but forever
having the reassurance that God will never leave their side.

Beautiful people is a special one. I practically had the scenario of

looking at myself in the mirror one morning and it changed my
perspective on how I see myself. I still do it from time to time because
I believe no one can change the way I see myself unless I let them. Not
to say I have no plans on looking better, but I want to be loving myself
all through out my growth.

I practically cried writing broken home because It is a true story for

me, and it made me miss my Dad so much. I believe the message is
quite clear, I didn’t grow up in a whole home, but it was a happy
family, it still is. Sadly it took my dad dying for me to see I always had
a complete family, because he might not be in the family portraits but
he is always in my heart. Now there is a missing piece.
The Indispensable need for change is a story of growth and how all
our experiences and choices turn to alter our personalities. I noticed I
was no longer the little girl I was before, even though there are parts of
her that won’t die. But all my decisions and experiences were birthing
this lady I was loving more and more each day.

Trusting the non-stranger, I wrote this because I noticed there was

this trend of people wanting to be gangster, saying they don’t trust
nobody but themselves. Truth is we can’t advance without given a
certain level of trust. More so when it comes to family, relationships
and friendships, for bonds to get tighter, trust has to get deeper. It’s ok
to take your time in trusting, to be cautious, but don’t shut everyone out.

It is my body, I wrote as a tribute to all those who are victims of sexual

assaults, yes your body has been violated and your soul has been
infiltrated but it’s still your body and your life and the choices you take
after that incident really matter. Forgiveness can bring a lot of healing
to you.

Intrusive thoughts is about all the crazy things we tend to think about
at random hours of the day an how we should not let these thoughts
speak louder than our conscience.

Love, the God is the best way I saw to end these collection of poems,
because at the end of the day love is what matters the most, God is what
matters the most. The more I understand this, the less I feel like giving
up on life.
 THANK YOU FOR
THE SUPPORT AND
JOINING ME ON THIS
JOURNEY.
GOD BLESS YOU

Enongene Doris M.