(After Ayoola Goodness Olanrewaju)
on days i sew my silence in the fabrics
of mother’s harsh/ness.
my body to relics [Expired Monuments]
and the deadness of fire.
my tongue alive, because i was the
fang on a Panther’s gum. I was
the is that never saw the backs
of maidens. i was the poet that never bleeds.
i was a torrents of coldness on nights
when houses failed to be birthed – a ton of shivers
weighing off thousand scales.
my mother was the goddess of twinges,
a many muted songs of sins – i borne out of
her thrusts – I was a son of words. a placenta of
I want to swim back to childhood,
touch water and,
dream again. & sleep again, & become the
regurgitations in the mouth of past doors.
i want to wash my eyes off the fire that is painted
on the walls where my heart is an
exhibition of scars.
I am an open wall
choked by the symphony of noises… My head
is a gong of thrusts. & a million bruises.
I am matching with the grief I carry – the songs
of hell that writhe on the flesh of my spittle, i marry
my sorriness with love, because one day,
devoid of bleakness, an elixir strong enough to
fall a mad man sane, i will swim with the writhing of my
tongue to childhood, touch
and dream again.
Shitta Faruq Ademólá is a late-teen Nigeria Writer and Poet as well as a prospective Lawyer. He writes poems to heal the burns in a heart, the tears of an Orphan, and he’s hoping to carry the world into Noah’s ark one day. When he’s not writing, he’s strolling round the streets of Abeoukuta singing the songs of Simi, or looking for a Lady to admire. He plays Dream League and Scrabbles like Ronaldo.
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