DESCENT
I tattoo scriptures on my skin because
my insides have known things
temples should not
Yes,
it did hurt when I fell from heaven –
the wounds from the fall are graffiti on flesh;
and the glint in my eyes you say shimmer
like light at the end of your tunnel
is the after-effect of the lightning, but
I cannot tell you this
So I dance in the rain; with the wind; and the thunder
to give you a sign, that though I may look it
I am not ordinary
I have graveyards where butterflies should flutter
and dreams buried in my closet
I shift at the sight of joy for fear
that it is fleeting – always slipping,
seeping through the cracks of my fingers; and
I tattoo scriptures on my skin because
my insides have known things
temples should not
Listen:
I do not want you
to love me as you do
I am but a beautifully crafted vase
I do not grow whatever is planted in me.
You will wilt.
my insides have known things
temples should not
Yes,
it did hurt when I fell from heaven –
the wounds from the fall are graffiti on flesh;
and the glint in my eyes you say shimmer
like light at the end of your tunnel
is the after-effect of the lightning, but
I cannot tell you this
So I dance in the rain; with the wind; and the thunder
to give you a sign, that though I may look it
I am not ordinary
I have graveyards where butterflies should flutter
and dreams buried in my closet
I shift at the sight of joy for fear
that it is fleeting – always slipping,
seeping through the cracks of my fingers; and
I tattoo scriptures on my skin because
my insides have known things
temples should not
Listen:
I do not want you
to love me as you do
I am but a beautifully crafted vase
I do not grow whatever is planted in me.
You will wilt.
HOLES
My mother’s blood pressure has been hitting the roof
and causing holes to siege the zinc
She has been wearing a broken spirit under her skin
and a wave of exhaustion under her eyelids
She came out of the toilet with a bucket
and I knew my sobbing had found its way through the pipes
She placed the bucket by my corner
and broke the silence in her soprano
“You’ve been crying a river,
And the rains are hesitating
Fill it with your tears
The pain is wasting”
How do I tell mother that
the holes that war at my chest cannot be mended by patches of aluminum;
And that the grief racing down my cheeks
cannot be contained by plastic?
How do I say “I have lived and I have leaked,
losing more of myself than this roof has let through”
How do I say, without causing more holes:
“Mother, it is not just the roof. I need fixing too”?
and causing holes to siege the zinc
She has been wearing a broken spirit under her skin
and a wave of exhaustion under her eyelids
She came out of the toilet with a bucket
and I knew my sobbing had found its way through the pipes
She placed the bucket by my corner
and broke the silence in her soprano
“You’ve been crying a river,
And the rains are hesitating
Fill it with your tears
The pain is wasting”
How do I tell mother that
the holes that war at my chest cannot be mended by patches of aluminum;
And that the grief racing down my cheeks
cannot be contained by plastic?
How do I say “I have lived and I have leaked,
losing more of myself than this roof has let through”
How do I say, without causing more holes:
“Mother, it is not just the roof. I need fixing too”?
BIO:
Osuluku, Woyengideigha Favour, is a student of the Niger Delta University; she scribbles from an empty bookshelf somewhere in Bayelsa.
Her socials:
Twitter - @G_Deigha
Instagram - g.a.deigha
Osuluku, Woyengideigha Favour, is a student of the Niger Delta University; she scribbles from an empty bookshelf somewhere in Bayelsa.
Her socials:
Twitter - @G_Deigha
Instagram - g.a.deigha