Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter,

This is the yester years lines,
Scribbled in a closet hut,
Where fire caressed our bodies erotically
Where I and your mama pounded nature…
Like a yam diluted with a coco yam,
Pounded in a mortar
Braced with her husband—pestle

You were, then, in heaven,
falling down in drizzle and drops of rain

(Listen wella, na de accent of warri people!)

Dear Daughter,
Hear not the man whistling at you like a chichi dodo in the field
Nor stare at his mouth weaved with sugarcane,
bebayed with troop of insects
telling you, “Love at the first sight.”
The mountain you carried might be his
“Blindness at his fore-sight!”

Dear Daughter,
For men are monkeys,
When they sighted that your bananas have ripened
Beware!
They will eat theirs, and turn cheetahs
Leaving you a ‘fairly-used’

Dear Daughter,
Turn your ears, a sieve
Keeping not to the talks of thieves
Whose tortoise is under the pretence of a shell
Coming to tell you about WEEK and how WEAK and light scarf is.
Turn deaf! Turn deaf!

For they are story tellers,
Telling cock and bull tales

Dear Daughter,
Listen to the words of those who have fallen into well…
And never drowned
For them only know the colour of the clay sand underneath,
And the numbers of fishes beneath
But not to those who are scared of falling,
For one day death will knock on the door of their heart leaving no great history
… like a snake that passes a rock without leaving no traces

Dear Daughter,
Hear my last word;
The journey you see ahead is far
But don’t path a shortcut!
Hmm, it might cut your life short!

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