THE CONVOY

When they have questions, people ask a lot of, "why not do this?", "what are you waiting for?" No one cares to know what you actually want.                            ... This goes on and on. I can feel my brain about to explode in discomfort. Yes, I know I have the 'potential,' but I do not have an interest. Questions I have to ask are, "why do you dismiss my feelings?", " why do you ignore that my desire truly matters?" The answer I feel is that you'd rather I drown in discomfort as long as I did what you wanted. You keep imposing your beliefs and invalidating my wants, my pains, my dreams. And here I am again, working under duress from the pressure of what you think is best for me. I seal my lips, I do not fight, I cower, I suffer in silence, I do not contest. After which, you smile, you radiate, you boast of pride you have of me.

For every evil you do, it's an eye for an eye For every shortcoming you make, it's a tooth for a tooth Now there are no more eyes and far lesser teeth to take Do you disagree?  Why then do we live and not see the evil that lies in our hearts and minds? Why then is the truth bitter for us to chew?

UNITY, THEY SAY. Did I not journey through foes I can’t unsee? Swimming across discord, a great sea Did I not listen to the sounds of war? Sorrow streaming deep against my oar Did I not lay my eyes down as children starved? Saying this, their sight in my mind remains carved  Did I not feel the cries of people deep in my bones? Same reason I ignore the sound of battle horns Did I not smell decaying corpses as I fled? Ghostly faces, lifeless pictures inscribed in my head Did I not taste the bitter tears? As they trickled down, peeling my fears Do I not now cherish the days of harmony? With family, days as sweet as honey Gidi gidi bụ ugwu – unity is strength  Whispers my soul as I close my eyes in death

I AM HURT I must admit, I am hurt Like a little bird, I'd rather not tut But I guess it's the symbol you hold I feel it deep in my neck, like a stuck stalk If pain wasn't a solid factor, I'd rather not talk I am not that alive neither do I exude bravery Now, I am scared or would I say wary? That you have now become the bullies that you preach against.

FREEDOM? Two years before, I decided to take the bold step. I no longer wanted to pocket my feelings and my hurt. I freed them, let them fly. Every step I took was full of determination, rage, and courage. Little did I know that what life has for me was far from the dreams I had for myself. Now, I sit in this room full of lights that blinded my sight. The walls were plain, old, and imprinted with sadness. The pipes that carry used water above the ceiling creaked, probably from tiredness. The clanging of the doors heightened my senses. There was no window but it wasn’t stuffy. I gripped tightly on my warm orange jumpsuit that was beginning to fade. I could hear movements of voices, sometimes they went with a swoosh, other times they crept quietly into my head.  I begged the grounds to pave way and let me go but underneath it were humans in warm orange that were either cold-blooded criminals or hopeless petty thieves.

    It was one night, as always, nights when I surf the internet looking for opportunities locked in somewhere. I wouldn’t say I knew what I was looking for but at least I had an idea. If it wasn’t a scholarship option to leave the shores of this land, it was an opening to submit my works and at least make money even if it was crumbs. On those nights, if I didn’t reach a dead end, it was either I got carried away by the ever succumbing hands of sleep or worse, the exhaustion of my Internet subscription.     It was that night I met Kobiowu, or so he called himself. I had found a website where my qualifications were required. I had applied and I had received an email instantly. Thinking it was an acceptable email, I practically jumped to my email inbox. Now that I think about it, it felt more of a dubious approach. He called himself Kobiowu, writer, editor, publisher, blah blah. My joy knew no bounds, I had met a well-connected and high-placed creative, what more could...

INSOMNIA Laying my head to rest as always I say that one line prayer as I was taught to Struggling to push my thoughts aside I remain choked by the voices in my head The voices telling me to chill, The ones whispering and The voices that stay barking  Jumping up to chug down a glass of milk It calms the nerves they say Swallowing repeatedly to ease the bile behind my throat I wrap my sheets up my neck, to find some solace? Tossing to the silence that keeps my ears tingling  I stare at the now spirally ceiling as I sink deep into my worries