Tell mother I am but a girlchild
I am not yet a woman to be married.
let me not write this sorrow that
men would see and cry tomorrow,
Let them not paint a scary picture today.
Tell father l am too young for this,
tell him my waistbeads snapped
at the market place yesterday
because they made the day dark
with double edged deceit of their heart.
I will work heavily to pay for his debt,
Marriage is not an option for me.
Let him hide his stupidity from the
watchful world’s tongues from lynching
at his weakness and fable arrogance.
Ogbuefi has no love in his eyes,
I won’t be the eleventh wife, father!
I won’t be able to bear the pains of
his manhood when we sing together
on the sinful bed he made as a miser.
Mother! I want to go back to school.
I want to see what the walls have for me,
I want freedom to explore womanhood
not a man always seen at the city gate
telling tomorrow how ugly he wants it to be.
Take my Pleas to Ogbuefi’s court,
I will work in the farm to pay Father’s debt
for life jelweries lie in choices we make,
It is not left in the wishful stare of our minds.
My heart carries a comb of fire to excel.
I will be fine without him in my life.
I don’t want the moon to be a witness
to my leaving from his cruel home,
I want the sun’s companionship as i
come back to share with the meatless meal.
A new song is here which is strange
to my tongue of hope and dreams.
I don’t want to sing along with the women,
Ogbuefi is a beast to them all, mother!
Falling in love with him is a nested sorrow.
©John Chizoba Vincent