Archive for January, 2013

After Waterloo

Silence.

That was all I could hear, see or feel. A moment that belonged in the black hole; silence so thick and immense, it was like matter. The numbing noiselessness so thick I could tear through the decibel particles of it the way a turtle would waddle through the weight of mud. Spiritless and empty, devoid of any logic, shattered beyond even my powers of observation; but all I heard was nothing as everything flashed before me. It wasn’t my choice, the silence wasn’t induced, it was the voice of inevitability. The silence was more a roar of an impending undoing; the roar would rock even the earth to its core. In my eyes, no sorrow showed.

The quietness of defeat, the exquisite torture of a crushed soul, leading to visions not to be uttered, not even in the realm of higher life. The words fell on my ears and everything else made no sound. I grew up learning many languages; none was coherent in my head as I walked the lonely road to the bridge. All I ever wanted passed through my hands in but a flashing moment. I had high dreams but got nothing. I walked on and on. I had it but didn’t have it. It had always eluded me. Unsure of how to move on, I sank deeper into the hole in my soul.

In my head I could picture flashes of guns, the thunder of cannons, the shrieks of the slain, the surgeons and their knives besides my bruised and broken spirit. If I was to describe it all, I would be an artist; but if I was an artist, there would be deeper wounds which I would not be able to describe. It was like a train wreck waiting to happen; how I longed for someone to pick me up from the tracks, to save the wildfire from frustration.

I learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant and kindness from the unkind; yet, strange, I’m ungrateful to those teachers; none had led me to what I wanted. I longed for the day when the torture would end, I would wear a smile and walk in the sun. But it was a far cry, for all I had for company was the silence of great love that stung stronger than death. The silence that only music could find words to explain. On the walk to the bridge, I did my crying in the rain.

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The Mirrored Me

There you are, the little me, the miraculous outcome from the spill of my male menace after ravaging the concubines of a clavicle. The mirrored me, the power that escaped from my loins. You remind me of everything I was and all I never was; from the beauty of my seduction I got more than I wanted, everything I never had. I’m filled with glee and bliss that my first pour of wine to the earth gave up its finest back to me.

Your tiny hands gripped my finger like you knew who it was and in a moment, I was in love. It felt like my heart was being squeezed and through your eyes, I could see the world smiling back at me. I carried you in my arms and softly kissed your fluffy pink cheeks and the manliest of tears I ever shed ran down the isle of my lean face as I’ve never felt a love so pure and true; after I met your mother that is. I’ll never trade a day with you for all the money in the world, I won’t trade even your toys for all the diamond in Russia, and I’ll never trade the sleepless nights you gave to me for all the trophies in the world.

To your mother, I hold the fire that burns beyond my cloak and deep in my heart. My love, my life, the beauty of my seduction, the mother of my child. No higher position, no loftier throne has any other in my heart; the best design with nothing missing, a completed jigsaw that have merged into an indivisible perfect picture. To her I owe all, the conveyor of you into my life. From the moment she knew you existed, the love for you had no resistance; the elation she felt as you grew in her womb, the joy I felt in my heart when you started to bloom.

From the first time you kicked me in the ears until that glorious day you actually appeared upside down and much quicker than planned, you change my life in that instant. I pray that I remain a good father to you and that I live a life worthy of emulation. I can’t seem to get to grips exactly with what I did to deserve you, but I definitely must have done something right because having you as my daughter has been nothing short of pure delight.

This day last year, you cried as you came into my life, your cry brought a smile to my face as I was birthed into the realm of being a father. You are the best part of me. Happy birthday Iteoluwakiishi, love you till eternity.

(FICTION)

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