PoetrySad Poems

My Tales at Fifteen

Fifteen
Was I when
I had a soul sitting within me
And a being on my back calling me mummy

Fifteen
Was I when
I had to roam the street
Hawking H20 while
My throat dried but I wouldn’t
Dare take a drop to cool off
Just for me to have enough profit

Thirteen
Was I when
I dropped my pen on my book
On that beautiful mahogany
Crafted into a chair for me
Just adjacent the wall
Painted black with white words on it
In a room where we cleaned our dumb asses—I mean classroom

Thirteen
Was I when
My legs were fulfilling their destiny
Majestically over the red earth
Of our village
When Uncle Buru brutally dragged me into the bush near by
And buried me within his knees
He went through my thighs
He burgled my cave
And made sure the red liquid came
My shout was nothing but a background music to his action
And after all nothing could be done for he was a chief in the village
So, I had to deliver what he loaded into me

Fifteen
Was I when
Papa and Mama kicked the bucket
Which pours endless water into my eyes and down my cheeks
And in the process of sympathy
Uncle Buru’s son did the same thing his father did
And here I am carrying his load in me
To be delivered after nine moons pass.

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