by Peculiar . C. Ene
(Makurdi, Benue State. Nigeria)
With whom I am well pleased
Standing under this very neem tree,
I cast my mind to the good old days
Those days when our love burnt like candles in dark corners
Those days when you will sing your love for me in the dark of the nights
Those days when parting ways was never dreamt of.
I still recall those thick black nights I would sneak my way from the watch of my parents to your ever waiting arms
The taste of your wet lips pressed on mine
Your hands running through my body sending cold messages of your love through my veins
In search for what I don't know, what I don't care to know, for all I know is your love.
How could it be that you are now far away
How long will I wait?
For how long will I wait for the forever we promised each other that is now taking forever to play?
For how long will I wait on this shore?
This same river shores we wrote our names on
This same crispy sands we built houses with
This same shores where we first met.
I pray you not to forget the days we walked through streets, running, laughing, hiding behind closed shops from flashlights of cars that may harbour familiar drivers that may cut our day short
I pray you remember your words
I pray you remember you promised to return
That cold morning you left me in tears
I couldn't let go
I watched you disappear with those traveling bags, leaving me with the words "I will return "
I hope you do.
I hope you survive the struggle out there
I hope you survive the temptations out there
I hope those old ugly faces hidden under Mary Kay's foundation doesn't move you
I hope you always remember my pretty face even when you sleep
I hope you remember my soft ebony skin and not fall for those bleached skin carried by ladies in that ideal city
Those dead skins that smells like mother's native maggi "okpehe"__ too many harsh creams, little wonder they always wear perfumes.
I hope you still prefer my cookings to those poisonous "White Maggi" stew you now eat
I hope those exposed cleavages doesn't move you
I must tell you, their pillars are of foam bras
For they are long flattened breasts
I hope you don't return with one of those ladies with pierced nose, high heeled shoes and rubber lashes
Her brain cooked senseless, that would look at me like an old artifact dug up from the past
Those lashes, yes, those lashes, I heard are from the devil's own armpit hairs.
I hope this long tarred road that took you bring you back some day
I write this in tears
I hope they touch you
I hope the winds carry my voice to you
I hope they remind you of home
So many hopes I have hoped, hoping I don't hope in vain.
I await your coming like the Christians do for their MESSIAH.
© Peculiar . C. Ene