Heartless Woman

heartless womanI stand up and sight her,
Is it a dream or is she really by a stream,
I see her hands are curled up in blood,
I listen for her heart but palpitations I do not hear.

Streaks of dried tears trail her ruddy cheeks,
She speaks not, for her lips are sealed,
She looks so rigid by the flowing water,
For the knees on which she has knelt does not shake.

Her skin so pale it tells another tale,
Her hair so thick that the locks do not stray,
Her pose so strained and yet fragile she remains,
Her clothes withered and torn like feathers.

Why does this once olive-skinned woman not talk,
Why is it she does not move,
Closer I go to give her a dodge,
And there in her hands I sight her bleeding and once beating heart.


Orisa Bi Iya

Yes it is a none fact that they could be stubborn, rude, nagging, provoking and what have you, yet! They are the vessel by which we multiply and fill the earth, YES! I’m talking about women.

Some few weeks ago I was privileged or otherwise unfortunate to have been present at a child bearing and trust me it was worse than a rollercoaster ride. I stood on the opposite of the delivery room watching through the transparent glass. Each time a wave of contraction hit her I cringed and I tried to pierce the looking glass with my chipped nails.

Probably I’m not giving a very good description of this. She was pretty well… That’s if you could see past the pain in her eyes, her furrowed brow, tear stained face and matted hair. She had a few drops of blood upon her lips from obviously biting on it, her ears all turned red from the strain of pushing, her hospital gown lifted in sheer abandon from all that tossing around. I could see her tonsils clearly with each scream that passed out of her mouth and you get to wonder if you did want to go through the same. Surrounding her were the doctors with the fake encouraging smiles and oozing out soothing comments that were obviously not even being heard.

Then it occurs to me that this same woman who is birthing in pain still faces the brutal markings of her husband, still tries to put the home in order, makes sure the meal is served, attend to the children, is belittled if the children do not fare well at their academics, still manages to go to work, prays for the entire family and does most of the crying. Its such a burden and yet carry a child for nine months while going through all sorts of hormonal and physical changes and the man still does not think all these are enough reasons to restrain himself from hurting the woman he claims to love.

Yet behind every successful man they say is a woman, always taking the back seat while her husband stands as a beacon to the world. She cowers at home waiting to be trampled upon and abused emotionally for not attending even to the slightest of details. They do forget that this punching bag of theirs actually represents their own mothers.

So back to the room and the writhing woman, hours have gone by and brows are being cooled, little by little after so much coaxing the miracle unravels itself and tenderly the pinkish dome shows its crown and she is encouraged to push further. “Unto us a child is born” and indeed it is so, the baby with a yelp gives its first sign of life by crying out loud and is cleaned and wrapped in soft clouds of clothing, I smile for through God this woman has created life.

I look up to see the mother and to my utmost surprise, she grins like a cheshire cat forgetting that just moments ago she was having a near death experience. I just might consider going through it afterall

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The BEST I Ever HAD!

The sounds of the pouring rain,
The demands of the alternative human,
The clamor for refreshments,
The ecstasy in their eyes.

As time drew nearer the feeling grew stronger,
As the suggestions came pouring out, only then did it make sense,
All hopes fluttered, saddness creeping in,
Suddenly I felt abandoned.

My bags were packed and I was ready to go,
Her bags were packed she wasn’t ready to go,
His mobile was packed and ready to go,
She was out and ready to prance.

Amidst the rains, the flood, the cursing there was laughter,
Amidst the difference in dialect there was a consensus,
Amidst the darkness there was rejoicing,
Amidst the lateness there was safe arrival.

Words cannot describe my delight and the warmth I felt,
The meal abandoned as my ears were atuned to my abode,
I was able to reach out and swallow that pain,
Though it be lodged in my chest.

What a pure and unadulterated soul,
What a shame that we never take a deeper look,
What a pity that I was never there,
What a hoax this life is that portrays emphathy.

Angelic windows were what my eyes were called,
What was inside of me to have given out that courage he sought,
Despite my obvious shyness and pain,
I have given another Being joy and fulfilment.

I held those beautiful hands of his,
Contact always did bring one home,
Lost in dark memories created by our own kin,
Dare I say that I have lost a part of me to him.

I am no god, yet he showers me with praise,
I am no god, yet he claims I’ve healed him,
I am no god, yet he claims I’m an angel,
I am no god, yet he bares his soul out to me.

There is a storm stirring within my soul,
An angel passes by and the words come out,
He is as a babe in the hands of his mother,
God give me the strength to be enough for him.

The speed heighten due to those feelings of freedom,
The pain all but gone due to the warm embrace given,
The pains increased due to what I cannot explain,
The smiles increased due to the fact that this was the longest and most beautiful night of my life.

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What a Beautiful Day

So I’m done with the sermon and head out to the street,
It occurs to me some minutes after,
That I have being oblivious to the fact that it was raining,
I suddenly realise how wet my locks were,
My feet were gritty and topped with grime,
I had developed scratch marks from God knows where,
So I’m pondering,
How is it I didn’t feel the rain,
Except for the obscuring drops on my lashes,
I would not have known,
I walk on,
While people called out to me,
Saying “come out from under the rain”,
I turn and smile,
To some I must have looked like a loony,
My dreads didn’t help matters,
My fingers had begun to burn,
From the weight I carried on my right hand,
It only seemed fair to switch hands,
But I didn’t,
Patiently I walked on,
What sort of a virtue is this,
I didn’t seem moved at all,
My phone beeped away,
Not once did I pick,
I felt the gliding drops in my undergarment,
And I sighed,
So many men stopped trying to pick me up,
I turned them away with a smile,
I heard others call me princess,
And I giggled in my wet apparel,
Why was I getting all these attention,
And then it dawns on me,
Cause I see it in their eyes,
I am beautiful,
Even with my flabby arms, big wet eyes, tousled dreadlocks, gritty feet, half hearted smile,
To them I was beautiful”,
And I decided no one will ever tell me otherwise,
They kept trying,
Especially the persistent bugger,
I suddenly turn,
I look into his hybrid,
And I say to myself,
“What the heck, might as well mess up his car”,
He puts on the heater,
And places a warm blanket on my laps,
And chats away,
I really can’t hear much of what he is saying,
And then I notice he’s quiet,
I turn to him,
He says, “do you know you have a smile that can light up a whole town?”,
I reply ” I have a smile that can change a stone hearted man”,
He laughs,
I gets to my front gate,
Preparing to get down,
He grabs hold of my hand and says,
” Hello beautiful, my name is David”,
I smile at his chivalry,
And say “hi David, you already know my name”

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