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
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.


What are your thoughts? Join the discussion...

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.