Next of Kin of My Mother’s Plight
written by: Aniedi Ita Bassey
@aniedibassey50
As I aim for the moon, I see the stars
wearing an awful look. And each time
I reached out to grasp them; they shrieked
at me in disdain “Oh ye son of a broken
Mother, how dare you try to grab us with
your dirty and petite fingers?
Or have you not heard how your mother’s
cadaver was left to decompose and then
got washed away by the bitter rain that fell
a fortnight after her execution by the villagers?
Since then, your mother’s soul has been a vagabond;
wandering just like a scalar quantity; full of magnitude,
and yet, has no direction.” These words sunk deep into me like
a nail being driven into the wood by a carpenter.
I looked back and then got washed away by
the same bitter rain that washed my mother’s
remains. Then it occurred to me that I am the
next of kin of my mother’s plight. Oh ye bitter
rain, why hast though chosen to wash me off
this galaxy where my hope lies!?
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