Imperfect

I want to remember my youth

as man recalls evolution

a date of meeting high and err

This tall figure who knows

too well, what it is to be imperfect.

A higher being

who has lost count of how many times

she’s had her back to the ground

but with the grit of my ancestors stamped in my DNA,

I envelope myself in a cocoon of self-preservation

in protection from the heavy lashes that made

catcalls with my skin, singing the redemption song

as I fight the battle of wit with gravity

and still I rise only to fall

but in my defence, it made me stronger.

The days turn to years, a stack growing in their numbers

but I remain stunted wanting only to add decimals

raised to exponentials

for I refuse to be old

even if my body turns wrinkled, I still refuse to be old

even if I lose my sight, I want to see the beauty of my youth

for if age is nothing but a number

what then is time if nothing but seconds ticking

reminding me to check my biological clock

whose hand is close to the eleventh hour

and if not careful all will be lost.

Who am I if not a vessel

who's captain can steer expertly in the midst of turbulence

and bring to berth the spoils of the war with confusion

trying to gain a foothold in the market to fish for nothing

but fool's gold and sell to the highest bidder.

I want to remember that I held on, not surrendering

to the temptation of tasting the forbidden 

not fruit cos thanks to Eve, our eyes have been open 

to the game of hide and seek
if caught, the devil is the victim

but I am still a tall figure who knows 

too well, what it is to be imperfect

A higher being

who's lost count of how many times

she's had a stare down with lust who almost won

but with the words of the testament sealed in my DNA

I'm closed off to the taunts and jeers of hunger

grappling at my throat, chocking my sanity 

yet I'm breathing fine

cos I know that the journey to self is not by the signoff 

gotten from people around me

it is in knowing that even when I fall, bruise myself I am a sign for all 

to see that it is not the end cos still I rise. 

Lack of Evidence

(Singing)

Hush little fetus, don’t you cry

mama’s not gonna see you grow to child

Hush little egg, please don’t you hatch

Cos mama’s not here to keep you warm.

The Nigerian law makes it a crime to perform

or to obtain an abortion, labelling it as illegal

that I can agree with,  people who still do it are

ill from a disease that is making a meal of their body, and

I’m sick of seeing them place an order

to be served Egal to God every time they

snuff out the light and blow into nothingness

the existence from which man was formed

cos how do you explain 610,000 future you’ve pushed

into oblivion and the time you reset

the minute you flushed down the drain

the happiness that could have embraced

 joy with scalpels that tore open your bellies and

vomited the evidence of your…well let’s just say evidence

and in silence you remain 

knowing that nothing could be used against you

acquitting yourself of first degree murder as the plantiff suffered a

terrible fate which has left its attorney defenceless without his key witness.

Now the case has been thrown out of court for lack of….Yea, you can say it again

But do you hear the shatter of the broken lullaby sung by lips cracked

with no gloss to give spark to the voice that chants the melody?

that is the life that could have been the save-your heart lunged for

but no air to breathe your last…

Then you’d remember

how your baby appealed to live

wanting to see and touch your face with hands full of trust

looking to cover your mistakes with glues of toothless gum

not judging, even though you were an accessory to an act

meant only for couples…

But now it’s too late,

A statistics as the child who died the same day

you gave yours for the sake of burying the evidence

They said

They said 
"we shall bring back our girls"
girls that belong to 
them, you and me
It's been 121 days and
I'm still counting
the days to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus
we use in place of systems.

Systems
that got states united in one voice,
led the march to match
the kidnappers mockery
of my nations intelligence 
who found all exits
but no entry into his lair,
claiming they wouldn't
use force but would rather
police the twenties and
so, it's been 3 months, 30days 
and I'm still counting
the month to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus 
we use in place of systems.

Systems
that got nations united,
blazed a trail and
would have torched the city
if it weren't for the lives
housed inside plot 234, Bush street 
off forest road, Sambisa 
whilst we on the outside made 
a spectacle of everything but a show,
swearing upon our blood
that we are not show people.

We joined in making the sign
blew it up like Christmas banger
knocked out anyone who dared
to question it's authenticity.

we drank our fill
of a product not tested
draped it on our dps
to show our solidarity
clawed the ground from the earth
to bemoan our fate,
and cried a flood to wash
the taunts of death that
stained our cheeks..
all because our girls were
trending, hashtaged, the
breaking news that broke the
death of silence that held us 
closely to its bosom, and like
mother she rose

graced the podium 
like the dame she is
bled tears to show the
mutilated pupil resting
on the bed of anguish
screamed hoarsely with 
words empty as a barrel 
of its content
cos only those that
have done the least,
have plenty to say
But I'd say this... 
I feel we are being played
and it's a score I want settled
cos I want no part 
in this fixed match.

"Are these girls real"
or just a cover to hide 
under in place of their
umbrella yet can't
offer protection against
the cloud of insult
sweeping towards them by
the hand that holds the broom.

But if they still insist on
bringing back our girls
I'd like to remind them 
that..

it's been 2904 hours and
I'm still counting
the hours to their return
like they struggled to
count the number of girls 
accurately on the Abacus
we use in place of systems