Be Home to Our Memories
By Mbanefo Chibuike
The morning we decided to leave home
you spoke the language of the legs,
turning our bodies into the ravenous night -
from watching the sun rise into mother's face
to our eyes feeding off the lush vegetation.
You fold our memories into this emptiness
my mother's hands -
in us, you paint a picture of sojourners
whose shadows remain erased in the sun -
and you this mournful recollection
stranding our new beginnings between trees.
Old things continue to lead our hopes
over the faces of these colossal ruins
our tender legs constantly asking our hearts when we'd return -
and then you'll try to pull these thoughts off the sands
into the bags our heads hold dear.
To flee from this sudden heat burning our trembling bodies
is to negotiate our ways into a calm night.
But for how long do you walk somewhere endless thence
how does a mother explain self-exile to the baby on her back
that footprints are responses to war -
and peace is a cloudless sky drawing names into solitude.
When all of our bodies become one
you'll wreck me each time I try to call you,
and when you speak of resurrections
I'll become as brittle as daytime
for tomorrow's stories will begin
with these memories rowing a girl home.
Read More about the Author Here - www.nigerianwriters.info/mbanefo-chibuike