THIS IS HOW I MADE MY WINGS
By Ogwiji Ehi
With sunken eyes in tired sockets,
I ran after my father’s sigh;
seized it, slit its throat, hid the
blood-stained knife in a lawn of solitude
& became the dream my father had
on the night of my conception- when an
unfertilized dialogue hatched into a
monologue.
On the night of my birth, they say
My father was like this tipsy darkness,
wearing a shirt cut from a fabric of scars,
he staggered in the furrows of stars
till he stood before a mirror & saw me
walk out of his reflection.
So when you run, my daughter, from the
ghosts of dead flowers & the songs that
die in the throat of a town-crier’s gong,
hold the hands of your Shadow
‘cos on the day when your sun slumps and dies
& the moon turns his back at you,
Your shadow will perch on your soul
& hum into your ears, tunes trapped in
the sealed lips of the wind,
For such is how I made my wings.
I ignored the scorpion on my enemies’ tongue,
I ignored the bees in my lover’s song,
I ignored the butterflies in empty gossips,
then I l enjoyed the voice of Silence,
as solitude spun my wings
from the plume of ideas.

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