Young

My mother’s thigh were my stepping stone to the world beyond when I was born.

Day in. Day out. I sat there listening, never understanding the sounds from her mouth.

I clung to her bosom, it was all that I had.

I remember my first movie, Elizabeth Taylor being swooped off her feet.

Maybe I could be a damsel in distress in a marble courtyard  someday, I mused.

It was such a  honor to be chosen as a damsel when I was young.

Some night, mom was my enemy, other nights, dad was my enemy.

Both nights I had someone I could confide in, an ally. My brother.

He stood up for me when  I was defenceless.

The hero I’ve never known until the day he became  mute.

The intimacy I had never appreciated until we became estranged.

Not by time, space, barrier, but by words.

I watched him detach, I watched him change.

Before my eyes I saw him become what I could never describe, what he may never be able to explain.

And that day came when I held his hand, I cried and bursted out in anger

He bowed his head for he didn’t want me to notice the creeping duress that was becoming too real.

His unflexible smirk revealed a cold war unfurling within him, he was no more than ten.

When I was born, I clung to my mother’s bosom, it was all I knew .

I knew my knight in shining armor all too well,  until he went missing, hidden inside a conch.

Now, I have even less than I did then, but I have chosen to be a knight to nobody, but him.

He is small and compact but  will always be my ally.

Then I met a man and when I told him this, he told me, “youth is wasted on the young”.

As we steadily approach the third decade of life, I have to admit that perhaps he was right.

 


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Image Courtesy:  Silas Onoja on Twitter

 

Little Wanderer

Her mother calls her little wanderer. Her brother says she’ll twist a joint if she swings from one more branch. she’d play dress up and hopscotch.

She loved to twirl most of all. It’ll transport her into Neurkhkryx, where everyone is minuscule, like crystal. All eleven tribes are peace-loving. Poverty doesn’t exist. It is Nirvana.

Chihuahuas are the deadliest creatures, and leopards are homebred.

Her extraterrestrial neighbor, Ayo, who migrated from Azuzu, the ninth planet, would stop by with oatmeal raisin cookies whenever she voyaged here. There is no segregation between ETs and Neurakhites, neither is immigration laws complicated. There is no prejudice.

Amongst them, she is giant. They’d stare in awe then make pictures with her. They’d invite her to their homes to dine and meditate. There is only one God, Yahweh, whom they meditate to and they’d often ask questions about the world she came from, Earth.

She’d always have to leave, this made her forehead wrinkhttps://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wrinkle/le. Back to the other world and its troubles. Her mother would take her to Dr., and he would say;

“Your child has absence seizures, and perhaps a mild autism. Be wary lest she wanders too far”.

Before the first luminous star fades. She would fold unto her mother’s thighs. A smile painted on her lip.

One day, this world would accept her just like in Neukhkryx, this she was certain. And maybe then she could show them that being different isn’t as scary as it’s played out to be.