The bride that never was.

The bride that never was.

What does it matter?

I can’t see it on my skin

It is definitely not written on my head.

It may run through my veins

that i have heard people say, that we are who we are,

where we come from defines who we turn out to be

The evidence of who I am and where I

come from should it really be linked to my tribe?

But the same blood flow through their veins too

It shows how alike we are- human.

They say I don’t understand their culture

I am not part of them, so I don’t belong to

Their social group.

Hence I can’t love their son or even

Be the mother of his children.

Didn’t he see one of his own

Before he came to me for happiness and love?

Why do we make simple things

Difficult for ourselves by segregating?

Raising smoke where there is no fire.

I am torn apart because of

Their prejudice.

The door to my heart is shut forever

I will never wear this  gown

Before a priest and his congregation

I will never be a wife or a mother.

One thing I have learnt, we may all

Be mortals, but we are different inside.


11 thoughts on “The bride that never was.” by Irene Ese (@cindypoppa)

  1. Well done with this one.
    Well you come from to a large extent defines who you are.
    There is usually a reason behind stereotypes.
    With the situation in Nigeria, inter tribal marriages will become rarer.

    1. Thanks to people like Chinua who continue to draw tribal lines in their narrations – either intentionally or otherwise.

  2. nice work, the decision is harsh now, haba…

  3. Well… I expect my family won’t raise any brows if I marry someone outside the yoruba tribe. buh then again, I may be wrong :d
    Good questions. Let’s raise a stand ;)


  5. We are different only because we see ourselves as being different.
    Touching poem.

  6. Deep one
    decision of the poet-speaker is that of a victim o

    But the same blood flow(s)

  7. @Ohmston Weth, I am sorry, hope you’ve moved on?

  8. It’s really very sad to find these prejudices among us when we never had a hand in our origin or skin colour or any such characteristics in the first place.
    I might have easily been a Caucasian with a nose tapering into a fine cone, but see, my skin is black. So what the heck is the matter with us???
    We just must make life more miserable for ourselves, don’t we?

Leave a Reply