The day will come when, after harnessing space , the winds , the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And, on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire"
-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
On valentine's day, my school is always turned into a bloody colour by 'lovers'. If you don't have any touch of red, you are either too young to grasp love or too old to feel it. If you don't have a lover, you didn't exist that day. Uncle Matthew said about love, "It is the kind of feeling you feel when you feel the kind of feeling you've never felt before". Is love that reliable rising sun that never fails to come every morning or that denting black spot on your knee that stays after a fall? Maybe my school was correct, love have some colour to it. Maybe uncle Matthew was right, love is indeed a feeling. Maybe love is really meant for lovers. But is that all love is about?
Some say love dampens the senses and so, should never come. Others suggest that if it did come, it should never stay for It comes with too much bother. Society (you and I) have tenaciously misconstrued the science of love. It's not always sex. It's does not always gain. It is not the light in your eyes when you see Felicia or the lump in your throat when you hug Dápo. It is not about who you can love and when it's convenient. It' s not moi-moi, it should not be rationed. Love is not religious, tribal or racial. Love is not blind. Love does cost a thing. Love is not that dripping red heart picture on your gallery. No! Love is not red. What did they say about journalist…they consistently repeat a lie with the hope that it will become true. No amount of clothe we wear love can change how it looks. It is either love or not. No semi-love or fake love.
Love could be petalous as well as thorny. Love is commitment. Believe me, love is the smile on your face when you see your imperfect self in a mirror. It was the pain in mummy's voice when she bore you. It was the necessity in daddy's gait as he spank your mischievous bum bum. Love was the hurried steps your play mates made into the bush to fetch Awolowo leaf to tend your scratched knee. It was the silence Uzor shared with you when words failed. It was in those things we shared and gave when it was all we had. It was in those voices that prayed and cheered us on when we couldn't find strength. It was in the kiss on the altar when you remembered how long Bamikole waited to deserve you. Love was when you trusted Isoken with your heart. Love is simple. It cannot be caged, but given wings. Love is the only debt that can't be paid in full.
Love is when you let yourself live.