My reputation was marred with the stain of reproach and I walked among crowds verbalising the anthem of rejection—a tune awfully disheartening to my ears. I drifted atop the tidal waves of shame and crashed beneath that unfortunate magnitude.
Lonely spaces were sure to entice me with glossy invitations, and I never said no to the quiet that gave my soul sanity and some reprieve. I stretched apart the edges of serenity just so I could fit in my piercing anxieties.
I’ve bargained for love in the least charming of ways, and my emotions were subdued as a candle in the wind. I gave the circumstances of affection the consent to fiddle with my feelings and my soul was naked in the face of a rebellious tempest.
The morning met me on the porch of desperation and my tears were broadcast before the silence of Heaven. All my desires hankered after were for feminine distinctions and the superlative splendour of womanly marvel.
I’ve embraced the cold for so long and mingled aimlessly among figures of mediocrity. The doldrums of dejection have enthroned me king and I’ve become a ghetto symbol drenched with the unabated scourge of stigma and scandal.
But I fought the notion I was a long-standing object of derision and you proved this string of events wrong. My darling, I’m tender so you can reshape my broken edifice and align me with the perfection of an astonishing miracle.
I’m grand and lofty because you’ve set me at the apex of your universe. My feet patrol your vicinity and I’m under the rain of your compliments and comical flatteries. I swell with the substance of love and feel the pampering of lavish, exotic luxuries.
Therefore my strides are large with a warrior’s pace and I’m quick because I have a world to conquer. I’m propelled with the impetus to win and dart forward from the commendation of an exceptional female.
My image is layered with nobility and I mirror all the distinctive colours of style and flamboyance. I return the smiles of my darling as we mimic a transcendent couple etched on the longevity of gold and outlasting the brevity of time.
A standing ovation prompts me to mount a winner’s podium and I’ve pulled the plug on a life of pity and abject humiliation, expelling the dark with lights of matchless brilliance. I walk in a champion’s shoes cobbled by my cheerleader to trample the ills.
© Valentine Nnebe 2025
All Rights Reserved
About the Creator
Val
A Registered Nurse / avid reader with the passion to write.
I Am Here in the Evening Light”: Finding Meaning in the Quiet Hours
There is a particular moment in the day when the world seems to pause. The sun hangs low, shadows stretch longer, and the noise of daily life softens into something gentler. “I am here in the evening light” is more than a poetic line—it is a state of being. It speaks to presence, reflection, and the quiet power of slowing down in a world that rarely allows it. In an age of constant urgency, the evening light offers something increasingly rare: space to breathe, think, and feel. The evening light has long inspired artists, writers, and thinkers. Unlike the sharp clarity of morning or the harsh glare of noon, it is forgiving. It blurs edges, warms colors, and makes even the ordinary appear meaningful. Streets look calmer, faces softer, landscapes more intimate. This daily transformation reminds us that perspective changes not because the world itself shifts, but because the light through which we view it does. A Time Between Roles Evening exists between what was and what will be. Workdays end, but night has not yet claimed the sky. In this in-between space, people often feel most themselves. The expectations of productivity loosen, and the pressure to perform eases. It is during these hours that many reflect on their choices, their relationships, and the paths they are walking. “I am here in the evening light” can be read as a quiet declaration: I have arrived at this moment, carrying the weight of the day, but I am still standing. For some, it means survival after difficulty. For others, it is gratitude for another day lived. The phrase does not shout achievement; it whispers presence. The Science of Slowing Down There is also a physiological reason why evenings feel different. As daylight fades, the body begins to prepare for rest. Cortisol levels drop, melatonin production increases, and the nervous system shifts away from fight-or-flight mode. This biological transition encourages introspection. Thoughts that were pushed aside during busy hours resurface, sometimes gently, sometimes insistently. Modern life often disrupts this natural rhythm. Artificial lighting, screens, and nonstop notifications blur the boundary between day and night. Yet many people still feel an instinctive pull toward the evening calm—watching the sky change color, taking a slow walk, or simply sitting in silence. These small rituals reconnect us with an older, more human pace of life. Evening Light as Metaphor Beyond the literal, evening light functions as a powerful metaphor. It can represent later stages of life, moments after loss, or periods of transition. Unlike dawn, which promises beginnings, evening light acknowledges what has already happened. It does not deny hardship or regret, but it frames them with gentleness. To say “I am here in the evening light” may mean: I have lived, I have endured, and I am still capable of noticing beauty. There is resilience in that awareness. Many people find that after setbacks—failed plans, broken relationships, or unmet expectations—it is not grand optimism that heals them, but quiet acceptance. Creativity and the Golden Hour Photographers call it the “golden hour” for a reason. The evening light reveals depth and texture that midday hides. Similarly, many creative minds do their best work during these hours. The mind, no longer racing, begins to wander productively. Ideas surface not through force, but through openness. Writers often describe evenings as a time when words come more honestly. Musicians speak of melodies that feel closer to emotion than technique. Even those who do not consider themselves artists may feel a creative stirring—cooking thoughtfully, journaling, or simply imagining different futures. Being Present in a Distracted Age Perhaps the most important message within “I am here in the evening light” is presence. To be “here” is not guaranteed anymore. Minds are often elsewhere—scrolling, planning, worrying. Evening light invites us back into the body, into the room, into the moment. This presence does not require meditation retreats or dramatic lifestyle changes. It can be as simple as noticing how the light falls across a wall, how the air cools, how sounds change. These moments of attention ground us. They remind us that life is not only lived in milestones, but in quiet intervals that hold just as much meaning. A Gentle Conclusion The evening light does not last long. Soon it deepens into night. That impermanence is part of its power. It teaches us that calm moments must be noticed while they are here, not postponed. “I am here in the evening light” is not a statement of arrival at perfection or certainty. It is a humble acknowledgment of being present in a fleeting, beautiful moment. In a loud and restless world, that may be one of the most meaningful declarations a person can make.
By Fiaz Ahmed Brohiabout 10 hours ago in Poets
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