By Abdulrauf Olajide
the breeze stops breathing
cool in my ears, my heart keeps
breaking down at your rememb--
erance, i tried to hold you tight
to myself, but you are water --
you keep escaping the tiny wholes
of my fingers — leaving me empty
without you turning back like a river.
i just also want to feel the fatherly
warmth too, like a toddler, enwrap–
ped on his mother's silky-back
or is this too much for me to ask?
when i recall your sparkling smile,
your radiant face like the moon's light,
your witty words that quench the
furious fire of rage in my heart's hollow,
i crave your presence like the
flying cool breeze of the beach; your soft
touches like that of rain's long–fingers
on the dried earth; i mean, i want to tell
you: "Dad, welcome back home, i miss you",
yet, Dad, your silence is a two-faced
sword, cutting deep into my veins and infusing
pains, grief, loneliness, and nostalgia — I'm dying...
Abdulrauf Olajide is a young poet from Nigeria. He is a 200-level student of Islamic Studies at Bayero University, Kano (BUK). He writes about nature, love, pains, and the evens and, the odds, happenings in his country, Nigeria.
He loves reading and writing. His works have been published in World Voices magazine. He is a social person and lively to relate with.