by ‘Bukola Ibirogba

I am dyslexic     

     It is neither a walk in the park, nor a picnic

This is what the world says I am.

In my heart however is deep calm.

I refuse to be ashamed

For this, I cannot be blamed.

I refuse to be overcome by words,

I have strived to be free from its cords.

Letters, dancing alphabets,

The harder it gets

To learn anything except new languages,

Forgotten instructions and muddled images.

I refuse to be defeated by not

Knowing which is left or right,

Or not telling which is dark or light,

Which is before and after,

Is it the first or the last chapter?

Cognition, recognition, recollection,

Are not the brands of motivation,

That help me grow, understand,

Learn, be fulfilled or boldly stand.


I am dyslexic,

It is neither a stroll in the park or a sweet picnic,

That is what the doctor told me at the clinic,

Please, remember that my inability is in fact an ability

To see the world differently,

To touch lives differently, but more intimately,

To change situations more constructively,

My eyes see the wonder in the world,

Even when others have their senses dulled.

The perched flies, the shining sun, the blooming flowers,

Sandcastles, even the mighty towers,

All the wonders of creation,

Things that make great a nation.

My greatest gift; my imagination.

I refuse to be ashamed,

For it, I cannot be blamed!

I am not defeated,

Despite the failures, repeated,

I stand tall amidst all pains

Of being different, and I reap the gains

Of uniqueness and distinctiveness.


I am dyslexic,

I accept who I am,

In my head is quiet and calm,

I refuse to be ashamed,

Yes, I cannot be blamed!

I am the definition of creativity.

My head filled now with dreams of what could be reality,

My mind is such a wonder to behold,

My hands building legacies to hold

On to, for generations yet unborn.

Einstein, Whoopi, Da Vinci, Beethoven.

Dyslexic; all they could have been,

As their teachers vowed; was a waste to the world,

A shame to education, wisdom and knowledge.

Over others, their gifts, their hands gave them a greater edge,

Their minds, their creativity; became legacies to hold,

Onto for dyslexic generations yet unborn to be proud and bold.

They refused to be defined by their inability,

Their disability which was in fact; an ability.

                                 To turn the world around differently,

And change the status quo, greatly.


I am dyslexic,

I am assured that it is neither a frolic in the park or a romantic picnic,

It is far beyond if I am Western or if I am ethnic.

I refuse to be ashamed,

I definitely cannot be blamed

So, I refuse to be defined by not,

Knowing the difference between cold and hot,

Or left and right,

My intellect, brawn, will and might,

Directed now more realistically,

Towards blessing lives differently,

Changing things more creatively.

I am you,

A part of the fortunate few,

The ones who get to see each day through eyes born anew,

The lucky ones for whom great ideas come like the morning dew.

Dyslexia is what gave me my name,

It is what will grant me my fame.

I am all that the textbooks named

I know I should never be blamed.

I am dyslexic, proud and unashamed.







Bukola wants to live in a world filled with delicious food, constant power supply, amazing people, beautiful music and interesting books that are carved out of the stereotypic academic setting.
As a recent law graduate, five years of legal presentations, research and assignments at the University of Ibadan, have taught her how to put her thoughts into words and express her imagination in writing. She is a part-time sound engineer, artist and a regular contributor to Kreative Diadem; a creative writing website. She is also a social media enthusiast.
When Bukola is not writing, saving the world in her daydreams or having series of conversations with God, you can find her singing along to Bethel Music, Lucky Dube, Nathaniel Bassey or Omawumi.



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