God whispered our names in the beginning, like seeds planted in fertile soil
But we, children of the dust, forget as easily as harmattan winds erase footprints
We wander through life's marketplace, haggling for identity
Trying on names like second-hand clothes, ill-fitting and worn

In the cracked mirror of self-doubt, we see "Ugly"
Labeled price tags on glossy magazines scream "Worthless"
Love's empty compound echoes "Unworthy"
In the silence between unanswered prayers, we hear "Forgotten"
Dreams deflate like old tyres on dusty roads, leaving us "Rejected"

But wait! Listen!
My mother's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp as a machete:
My child, don't forget who you are
Her words, a lighthouse guiding me back to shore

She'd say, "In Christ,...