Grief Is Not the End(Poetry)

Grief comes like rain without warning,

 heavy with foreboding

 It drums against the roof of the heart.

 It sits beside you in silence, 

It wears the face of absence,

Speaks in echoes of what was lost.

It makes mornings harder to rise into,

It makes laughter feel borrowed,

It makes time move with wounded feet.

Some days it is a tide,

pulling you under

With the weight of a name 

you still whisper.

But grief is not stronger 

than the soul that carries it.

It may bend you

like a tree in hurricane winds,

strip leaves from your certainty,

leave branches bare against cold seasons

But roots know how to hold on.

 It carves deeper chambers in the heart,

 teaches tenderness to pain,

 turns innocence into wisdom.

It may slow you down,

 make healing come in fragments,

 in breaths,

 in surviving one dusk at a time.

 Still, slow is not broken.

And even when grief breaks parts of you,

 shatters old versions of who you were,

 it does not erase your worth.

 No sorrow can cancel 

the sacredness of your becoming.

Grief may change you.

Yes.

You are still the dawn 

waiting past the longest night.

Still the seed 

carrying spring beneath hard soil.

Still a song unfinished.

The future has not abandoned you.

 It waits, patient as sunrise

 for your trembling hands to reach for it.

One day,

the ache will soften into memory,

memory into meaning,

and meaning into strength 

You did not know survived.

And you will understand:

Grief was a river you crossed,

not a grave you lived in.

You were never meant

 to drown in mourning

 only to pass through it,

 carrying love forward.

Grief can feel endless,

but even endless-feeling nights

make room for morning.  

And you,

wounded, changed, still rising

 are greater

 than the sorrow that tried to name you.

© By Ngozi Ebubedike.

The Quiet Strength That Protects Love

Love is not sustained by passion alone. It is sustained by restraint. That restraint is called discipline which is an act of self-control.

Self-control in a relationship is the ability to govern your emotions, words, impulses, and reactions in ways that preserve respect, trust, and intimacy, even when you are hurt, angry, tempted, or misunderstood.

It is choosing not to say the cruel thing you know will wound your partner.

It is refusing to let jealousy become surveillance.

It is resisting the urge to punish your partner with silence, manipulation, or revenge.

It is understanding that love without discipline can become chaos.

What Self-Control Looks Like in Love

1. Emotional Regulation

 Not every feeling deserves immediate expression.

Being upset does not mean exploding. Feeling neglected does not justify accusations. Self-control allows you to pause before reacting and ask, What am I really feeling? What response will help rather than destroy?

A mature partner responds; an immature one only reacts.

2. Guarding Your Tongue

 Words spoken in anger often leave permanent scars.

Self-control means learning how to disagree without humiliation, correct without contempt, and express pain without becoming cruel.

Some relationships do not die from betrayal. They die from repeated verbal wounds.

3. Managing Desire and Temptation

 Commitment often requires private discipline before public loyalty.

Flirtations, emotional affairs, secrecy, and boundary violations rarely begin as disasters. They begin as unchecked impulses.

Self-control protects fidelity long before temptation grows teeth.

4. Controlling Possessiveness

 Love is not ownership.

Without self-control, insecurity can turn into monitoring, suspicion, and domination. But healthy love gives space, trusts, and does not suffocate.

Why Self-Control Matters

Without self-control:

• Anger becomes abuse.
• Disappointment becomes resentment.
• Attraction becomes infidelity.
• Conflict becomes warfare.

With self-control:

• Conflict becomes conversation.
• Desire becomes devotion.
• Freedom coexists with commitment.
• Love becomes safe.

Self-control does not suppress love. It protects it.

How to Achieve Self-Control in a Relationship

1. Know Your Triggers
 Pay attention to what makes you reactive.

Is it feeling ignored? Rejection? Criticism? Fear of abandonment?

Awareness is the first layer of discipline. You cannot govern what you do not recognise.

2. Practice the Pause

 Before responding in conflict, pause.

A few seconds can save years of regret.

Pause before texting in anger.
 Pause before assuming betrayal.
 Pause before escalating.

Space often prevents damage.

3. Strengthen Inner Security

 Many control problems in relationships come from unmanaged insecurity.

Work on self-worth outside the relationship.

A person at peace within themselves is less likely to become controlling, jealous, or emotionally reckless.

4. Set Boundaries With Yourself

 Self-control is easier when supported by boundaries.

Examples:

• “I will not continue arguments when either of us is shouting.”
• “I won’t discuss relationship issues while angry.”
• “I do not entertain emotional intimacy with people outside my commitment.”

Discipline thrives where standards exist.

5. Learn Delayed Reaction

 Not every problem must be confronted immediately.

Sometimes wisdom says, “I will address this when I can do so calmly.”

Urgency often fuels destruction.

6. Develop Humility

 Pride fights to win.

Self-control often looks like apologising first, listening longer, and choosing peace over ego.

Humility is disciplined love.

7. Practice Daily, Not Only During Crisis

 Self-control is a muscle.

It grows in ordinary moments:

• listening without interrupting
• keeping promises
• respecting boundaries
• managing tone
• being faithful in small things

You build it before you need it.

Many people think love is proven by intensity.

Often it is proven by restraint.

By the anger you chose not to unleash.
 By the temptation you refused.
 By the hurtful words you swallowed.
 By the ego you surrendered.

That is self-control.

And in relationships, self-control is not the enemy of passion.

It is what keeps passion from destroying the very love it seeks to protect.

A Review of The Crown by Olusola Sophia Anyanwu

The Crown is a deeply nostalgic novel, particularly for those who have experienced life in a boarding school. What makes it particularly compelling, however, is its narrative lens: the story unfolds through the eyes of a teacher, Sunbo Ogidan, whose voice brings both intimacy and authority to the unfolding events.

The novel traces Sunbo’s journey from her father’s home in Ibadan, Oyo State, to Port Harcourt, Rivers State, where she takes up a position as an English teacher at United Girls’ College, Abomb and later, a housemistress. Through her perspective, readers are immersed in the rhythms of life within a boarding school community, an enclosed world brimming with gossip, camaraderie, quiet rivalries, and the everyday struggles of educators striving to balance professional duties with personal realities.

Mrs Anyanwu captures the subtle nuances of this environment with remarkable clarity. The interactions among teachers, and between teachers and students, feel authentic and reveal the warmth and tensions that define such spaces. The staff room becomes more than a workplace; it is a microcosm of society, where personalities clash, alliances form, and unspoken hierarchies emerge.

Woven into this professional landscape is a tender romantic thread. We witness Sunbo’s evolution from a single woman into a married one through her relationship with her longtime partner, Uche. Their union, which leads to Uche transferring to her school after their wedding, adds emotional depth to the narrative and explores the complexities of love within the constraints of career and environment.

Beyond its personal and relational themes, The Crown delves into the politics of institutional life. It exposes the subtle—and sometimes overt—power plays within the school’s administration, where loyalty is often shaped by personal interests and ideological leanings rather than fairness or merit. This element gives the story a sharper edge, grounding it in realism.

The novel reaches its peak during the students’ riot, a chaotic and unsettling episode that underscores how easily young minds can be influenced and manipulated by authority figures for ulterior motives. This moment not only heightens the drama but also reinforces the book’s underlying commentary on power, responsibility, and vulnerability within educational systems.

Overall, The Crown is a well-crafted narrative that shines a spotlight on the lives of teachers, their sacrifices, their challenges, and their humanity. It thoughtfully examines how they navigate the delicate balance between professional obligations and personal commitments.

That said, Sunbo and Uche’s intercultural wedding presents a missed opportunity. It could have been more richly explored to infuse the story with greater cultural texture and depth, especially given the diversity such a union represents.

In all, The Crown is a reflective, engaging read that resonates long after the final page, particularly for those familiar with the unique world of boarding school life.

Reviewed by Ngozi Ebubedike