(SOLACE AND SOLITUDE)
if all tongues wag for the girlchild
then, what happens to the boychild?
if all the rivers run to the hut of females,
the farms of males will be left
unattended with hornful thorns!
Boys are dreamers of tomorrow’ pains
Painstakingly breaking down mountains &hills through the celestial wildlife of vulnerabilities & gories miseries.
Yet, the lilies of hellish testament burst into episode of seasons &songs & dirge
Forged into spiritualism &fetishness.
A boy is a dream of the world
A nation of armies extended family,
a million rivers spreading breviary,
songs littered in foreign languages.
We may not know the beginning of pleasurable experience in thign &thong
We may not know the many nights of lingering for walls of shoulders to lean;
We may not know fate as cup of awesome awkwardness in the wildest
Trivial pursuit of a boy child, yet, we table matters above them.
Boys are cracked town also…
towns ruin by wars,
Bodies dried off of blood & water,
cities trampled upon neglected tears.
Sadness accessed by the riverside,
Rivers torn apart separately finding freedom!
They are music laced with agonies grips.
With this blue eyes of their tabled clothlines, let’s visit this mirage spelling words in this split fire and water.
Let’s have a round table for issues that made boychild fearful.
©John Chizoba Vincent