Before you proceed to explore the space underneath my belt
Which you have laid waste to,
Take a moment to trace the origin of the rivers that flow in your body.
Search, till you get to the point where your father and the one before him
Spat on your mother. Seek, further into the time when the earth was but a
conglomeration of mute women with well-crafted vocal chords
who swallowed the yams from your father’s barn with the oil of masochism.
Follow this trail, to the point where boys grew from a father’s split skull,
and daughters were trained to be priestesses,
The point where your mother’s speech was a translated version of your father’s.
Then come back to me, my love.
and on your way, grow a voice.
So that when your daughter, and the one after her trace the origin of rivers,
They will not find you amidst a bunch of bowing bones
With well-crafted vocal chords.
Photo by Timothy L Brock on Unsplash
About The Author:
Chinedu Chisom Chidolue Itesi-Uzochukwu is an Igbo man, that prefers fufu and egusi soup to what he’d term the intricacies associated with eating jollof rice. Born in Lagos, Nigeria, he is a love enthusiast and believes words are similar to our kids unborn. When he is not producing music, he would either be writing poems, reading books or plotting a visit to a renowned fufu and soup seller.
Instagram: Doluewrites
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Nice work chinedu
I pray God will give you the required intellect to make more