Often times, I watch mother write
a note of elegy on her pretty lips,
She paint off her sorrow with a
foundation of dirge and eulogy
Each morning she wakes in front of
the mirror and her temple rumpled.
She dusts her dimples and chin
with laughter so illumious & gladden,
She said that was where her tears
and emotions and feelings reside.
Often times, I watch her wipe her
Wriggled tears away facing down,
Even when papa bounce here &
there breaking the silence between
the nostril and the craving ears.
She said keeping calm was what nature
made women to be, she never cried
but holds onto brevity like the unseen
foundation of the cloud and sky.
How she manage papa in the night
manage him in the morning & our
Knitted scarf thoughts also wells
The walls off my shouldering souls.
She said women are far away land
unease to explore by anyone man
born of flesh and blood and soul.
Did you know the exact place she
were when her tears returned?
Of a truth, women are braver than
Men that sip fears and insecurities.
“Do women cry too?” I asked mama
She muttered silently and smiled
“Women cry too but they don’t find
their dreams in a road buried with tales of blood and sorrow” she whispered.
They are bodies embodied with elegies of how to keep the family stronger
even when the classic of this space
Cracked into four or two or three,
They fall to rise stronger looking at the bond that holds their families unity.
©John Chizoba Vincent