Heartbreaks

She broke up with him today.

I’ve never seen her so distraught,
So vulnerable like ever before today.
For the very first time, her stubbornness had dissolved into water droplets.

It’s been said time and again
that love is a complicated thing.
There is a certain amount of courage, almost foolishness that makes you put your heart on your sleeves, each time.
Yet, almost like an addiction, I see them throw themselves at the risk.
Repeating the process that has now come to be normal with growing up – heartbreaks.

The thrill of a companion is what drives them most times.
I wish it wasn’t.
It’s a downhill fall if the solution to the hole within was to fill it with the sweet words of a companion.
For why would teeth be plucked out from excessive intake of sugar?

As ladies of a new generation,
I wish we wouldn’t be so vulnerable to societal norms.
I wish we would learn to see that self-worth is the best filling.
I wish we would learn to throw away the items society has thrown in our face to hide our flaws.
I wish we would learn to be comfortable in our own skin.
I wish we would learn to eat and dress for ourselves.
I wish we would learn to never be afraid to let out the warriors in us.
I wish we would learn to see how much more we could be,
if the strength came from within.

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The Chibok Girls

April 14th, was the third anniversary of the kidnapping of 276 girls, from the Government Girls Secondary School, school dormitories, in Chibok, Nigeria.

This poem is a cry for the safe return of the rest of the 195 girls that have yet to return.

It’s been three years now. Three years since the 276 girls were taken by force, in the dark of the night from the place that was the foundation of their aspirations. It’s been three years since 195 girls have last seen their families.

It is hard to comprehend. Always has been. It is difficult comprehending how people said to be human beings could celebrate the kidnapping of girls on the path of a better future. It is difficult comprehending why the government has yet to rescue the 195 of them. However, it’s a luxury for those whose problem is in comprehending how such an evil could happen and not in how it had happened to them.

There are things many of us will fail to fully understand. The emotion the parents feel when the next girl, who was managed to make it back home, isn’t their daughter. The emotion a mother feels when her daughter comes back with a baby although she is almost half the age, her Mother was when she had her first child. The agony some of the girls felt losing their babies while escaping.

However, despite the mess, a few thing are clear. Justice shall prevail, we are not afraid, and we shall #BringBackOurGirls.

The Answers

It’s hidden in
Their deaths
The aftermath of the stories they create
The aftermath of living in storyland and experiencing all they wished they could but couldn’t or/and didn’t dare to in the real world.
Tennessee Williams, a profound writer
Who didn’t believe in original sins or guilt but in the reasoning that the right or wrong that individuals make is “by necessity or by certain still-comprehended influences in themselves, their circumstances, and their antecedent”
So,
How would Tennessee Williams explain his own tragic death from asphyxiation?
The fancy word for
His chocking on a plastic medicine cap
An irony or a protest?

It’s hidden in
The 15-20 mins planned story I performed
About how I lived in the Worlds of the characters in my novels
Placed myself in their shoes and took their skin
For so long, far too long
That I was facing the consequences of
A slowly but surely dying body
Due to a disease unknown to man.

It’s hidden in
My poem STORYLAND
In which the very reason I open a book
Books which are so much like life
With a beginning and an end
With many adventures in between
Is simply for the joy of experiencing
Experiencing
More than I ever could in this life time.

It’s hidden in
The New Year Resolutions we make
The bucket list we create
Our search for love
The dreams we hunt for and the goals we hope to fulfill
But most especially the uncertainty of death at any point in time
That lingers in the air.

It’s hidden in
But it’s not that hard to see.

Earphones

Here has come one of the rarest moments,

where listening to my music

doesn’t wrap me in my bubble of bliss.

 

Everything is different.

The beats from my earphones doesn’t swallow me whole.

The soothing melody no longer swings on the tip of my tongue.

 

I am lost, my dreams long lost on a cliff.

I am shouting, lungs out,

crying a river that shall take me away.