Wishes as a Metaphor for an African Kid
Two poems from Nigerian Aderohunmu Abdulrokeeb
Wishes as a Metaphor for an African Kid
I do not know how to begin this poem, but somehow, the strength in my arms is waning and I’m still learning how to carry the moon on my dark palms, but somehow, when it reaches the centroid of a stanza, I may also be a victim of this poem, lately, I asked my neighbor’s daughter [whose command of my country’s native language Is a symbol of the queen’s accent] what she wanted to become in the nearest future? with great delight in her eyes, her feet, like ballonets jumping into the sky, “I want to become a lawyer in the nearest future.”
My heart levitated towards silence, I see a kid, a young blood, wishes are aubade for kids who are yet to read about the passage of life.
But I cannot see the aftermath of her wishes, maybe it will be hyphenated
with fulfilled dreams. I do not see strength in what she scooped out of her mouth, maybe they are lullabies to lure a frightened child to sleep, I do not know the angel that passed, maybe her words is used as a serviette by an angry god.
Here, the smoke of dead wishes pile up the sky, our elders’ mouths- cataract of unfulfilled dreams.
I assumed that -
wishes lie in between the banks of life and death.
wishes are biographies written by different authors.
wishes are piggybacked by unfulfillment.
wishes are ‘this and that’, that slipped out of the tongue.
Wishes are lost ships on a violent sea.
wishes are dents on the body.
I do not know how to end this poem, because I’m also a victim of it.
I Wish to Write a Poem Tonight
But my hands are trembling, the day does not come with euphoria nor ease, it does not come with scented flowers, a fire is burning me slowly and to be a boy in my country is to master the art of grief, to lurk behind the walls of silence.
somewhere, a boy is receding into fresh wars,
he comes out in the night to count the stars that are falling,
he carves his body on the bricks of hope,
he cringed his thoughts to the call of fate.
“May the new era comes with shades of prosperity
may this chaos pass like a thunderstorm” he said
This is me admiring the call of the boy,
this is me trying to pronounce his words in my mother’s dialect.
because every night journeys me down to memory lane,
and I forget how i fold myself into an origami of beauty,
into shapes that give hope to my sister who sees every man as a devil
because of the cracks in her body.
into shapes that muffle the cries of my mother
who thought love has flitted from her home a long time ago.
my pillow becomes an emissary of my own tears
and this reiterates itself every night without a pause,
without drilling my fears into boxes where other boys gather the pieces left in them.
I yawned, dropped my pen and laid my back on the bed.
Aderohunmu Abdulrokeeb is a poet, whose pen name is Bonnylad. He hails from Ogun state, Nigeria. He’s jovial and loves the presence of little children. He was the winner of (SO IT WAS YOU) poetry contest, February edition.His works has featured in voice lux journal, kalonopia magazine, fiery scribe review, commune writers and elsewhere.
