You will leave me –
Me and these two little boys you asked me to Mother for you, on that windy evening by the lake, as you knelt, holding up to me that simple bond of love-the ring. You will leave.
You will leave us for that your other great love, that one, that your blood boils for. You will leave.
I know you do love me, and that you’d love to spend all of your days with me. But I also know that when this distraction comes, this calling of the other, you grow restless, even as you lie by my side and hold me close.
Those simple chores you take delight in doing with me- the washing of plates, the sweeping of the floor, even the playful weaving of my long hair- all becomes a bore. Your sleep is less restful, your rest, less sweet. Our home becomes stifling, like a cage.
And even outside, where our boys ask you to play with them, your interest is weak, your hit of the ball is hesitating, plodding.
Your mates come around and tell of their adventures, you laugh with them but that laugh is from your throat; it is not that rich guffaw from deep within you which you would bestow, normally.
The drinks they bring and share with you tastes lesser, rougher, I see, from that curious look of distaste that fleets over your face.
It is just moments, just that collage of seconds that holds you from fleeing free to that other.
And those moments are those with which I will say to you: Go
Then you will rush out, arrayed for this worthy distraction.
You will leave then, to the other. That your old haunt, of War.
You will leave me and go to fight for your land, your country.
You will leave me to go defend her pride, her dignity, her wholesomeness.
The glint of battle will shine in your eyes, the rush of its lure will inflame your soul.
You will tell me that you will be back, but you still will leave.
A kiss as your parting, a tear as my parting.
When you are gone, I will kneel before The Great One, supplicating, that this Other will not grow greedy or selfish; that she will not take you for long. Or for ever.
That she – Damsel of War- will let you go, eventually, and you will return to my arms and our children into yours.
And maybe she will not call again, and we can live content with ourselves.
But I know that if she does call again, You, dear One, will, as always, Leave!
(Dedicated to the Nigerian troops fighting the Boko Haram Insurgency)