Your stomach is his

Mum - it's amusing and amazing to me, you are very much like your father
Me - really? How
Her - Well, your stature is similar to his, see that flat curve of your stomach? That looks like it holds nothing and everything? That's his
Me - well, what's yours in me?
Her - Your resilience.
There's silence.
Me - Well, well, i meant physical ma.
Her - i know what you meant. Your humour is his too. All the rest are me.

I was pretty sure my sardonic humour was my mother's. She'd deny this of course, who wants to be responsible for a child that can joke about death? Or like now, say much with so little. I said nothing all the same.

I cock my head to the side and guffaw, my empty flat stomach rising and falling as i imagine this. This unequal split of parts. I always knew i had many parts of my father. Duh you might think!

I thought of my great grand aunt who'd in turn praise the him she saw in me, and insult the him in me that was incorrect to her. Like, that streak of stubborness, she wanted to wane out. Especially, when my no was final. And aged 13, i said no in many ways. I silently rebelled, when i did the dishes but left the tea spoon, or when i feigned sleep so i could write another letter to my mother after lights out. The long limbs that could reach the taller book shelf, the biscuit tin behind the glass cabinet. The gait of kpekpeye she'd say in edo. They'd laugh. I'd look askance, even then, less so now. I understood better. They wanted me to understand. Although, i wasn't sure if i was a duckling in the good or bad way.

Years before that, an aunt would explain in the queen's english, precisely why i was a bastard. I'm aged 8 and confused. Afterall, I saw my father the day before. What did she know anyway. Except, according to the dictionary i'd find she was correct. But, why did she smile when she told me this? She seemed to relish my attempt to reject that label. So she had repeated again ' and this is why you are what a bastard is' she was 13 or 14. She closed the dictionary with the finality of a judge sentencing me to life imprisonment.

I'd now look at these arms, those running legs. My eyes narrowing. To myself i'd say 'oni ma mean enwin' (that doesn't mean anything)

She was talking again

Mum - You know, i think you have one of his ways of thinking too.
Me - does he over analyse too?
Mum - Not always, then again neither do you. I meant your clear logic
Me - it hasn't always served me well.
Mum - No, not always. Sometimes, you must listen, damwe hudun we (listen to your mind)
Me - I tried, ekhor mwen zuo ugbenso (my heart is mostly stupid)
Her - I know, that's why i said your gut or your mind. At the very least rhie ekhor wey le le gbe (take your heart with mind)

I wondered silently, who's that was. Whose heart i inherited. I'm sure that was neither, that was all me.

Neither of us say anything for a moment.

Screw being 'strong' for today

If i wanted to be strong today
I’d have called a doctor, not you
I’m tired of being told
‘stay strong’ ‘be strong’ ‘you're strong’ bla bla bla
What is it about this black girl’s pain
That turns your eyes awry
Some friend you are
To tell me to anchor, with 'strength' within, i already did that first!
When i heard, Olokun whispering, calling, a storm brewing,

How can you spout such tripe
When, all i want to do is follow Yemoja
To the base of the river beds
The ocean floors
To see what serene feels like
For just a moment of respite
‘i'm sorry to hear’ some say
Though, i'm almost certain, NOT! Follows
In the smirk and wry smile
Eye corners crinkled with mischief
As if to say 'oh well, you needed that lesson' glee is barely hidden
Pure disdain

I’m sad, i’m tired, i’m angry, i’m in flight, i’m processing, i'm floating
In this very dark moment, I've seen the brightest light sparks
Oh! That’s me? When i come back? To the middle, in sync again, maybe not
I don’t want to be strong, not merely
Not right now, at least not how you define it
Stoic, unmoving, unmoveable, touche indeed
As if my hurting disgusts you
I know you didn't want to know, no not really
I wouldn't tell ordinarily

Not today,
Today i went to dig further
Today you asked how i was
I told you ‘ekk u ekk’
You respond like everyone else
‘stay strong’ 'you've been so strong before'
Well, i’m tired of being this ‘strong’ whatever it means
I don’t want to ‘hang on’
Listen, can you tell me
Why my hurting thing
Makes you wanna holler?

Am i not allowed this human process
Of seeking, of self, of healing, of recovery
How does one stay strong
Without first healing
How do i heal without testimony
How can i testify
If you seek to silence me
With a gagging band aid of ‘be strong’
And you wonder why,
Some days, i’ll still smile
Through the murky strains of tears and fears
Burrowing just beneath
Oya has come again with change now

Not tomorrow though,
Tomorrow when you will have asked
How are you?
Not feeling very strong i’ll tell you as the laughter rises
Just as well, i feel free and just perfect
With being
A living woman

It doesn't pour

Sometime it doesn't pour after it rains,
Sometimes there is a flood, formed after drops have dripped into a space
Stagnant and putrid, a place filled with pain beyond relief
Relief which is needed for ease to return

The ease of a child, maybe, 4 or 7
As yet, unperturbed by life's funny cruelties
Sometimes, it is not so bleak,
So wariness inducing.
It feels weightless, there and not there.
Like the shadow i might only depart in death
I might flee in the next moment

There's an ache in my bones, a tiredness sleep won't fix
Not a nap, nor a night's slumber
For each moment i awake in this plane, another drop increases the flood
What do i do? Where shall i go? Who will hear my cry?

Some have listened to my laughter
They miss the cue where my anguish follows
Distracted now by my next pun line, I feel a clown some days
It doesn't always pour when it rains

But, by shango, when the flood increases, I pause
It feels raw, akin a boiling pus, so ripe, so old, so old, so yellow, so new
This pain. Will you burst in to?

To free me.

Untitled

Oya told him to tell me.
I didn't listen, he said she said.
She threw her back and laughed and laughed, she just knew i'd be back in tears no less, wishing time could reverse.
'Not in these times' he said she said, 'look clearly for the next test thrown, or you will repeat it!'
Remember lamide from your school.
I shuddered wide eyed.
Lamide...no...she wouldn't

She might, she might not...i'm not so sure now.