Welcome To My Creative Space
If I wasn’t so proud
I would get on my knees
Fall face flat on the ground
Reciting varied versions of apologies
Not for stepping out but stepping into holy matrimony
For laughing, for smiling
For performing forbidden rituals with my spirit at ease
And I apologise to the thousandth degree.
– it wasn’t you, it was us, it was me.
A.
Do you remember the day you took your first breath?
The first time your lungs were filled with air,
You eventually began to walk and then run.
Do you remember the first venue you danced at?
Do you remember the first time you laughed?
The first day you experienced joy so deep, your eyes watered,
Your heart flustered.
Do you remember the first song you sang?
Do you remember the first time you experienced peace?
The first time you put your feet up and felt at ease?
Lips curved up into a smile because your world was calm,
Do you remember the first time you felt free?
Why then do you focus on your first rejection letter?
First heartbreak, first disrespectful lover?
Why do you constantly recal the first day you fell,
Flat on your face begging for a space in hell.
Why do you choose to revisit the first biggest failure?
A.
I can only write in your absence,
As the pain lurks through,
Occupying emptiness with loneliness,
On land where compassion once grew.
It propels my imagination,
Encourages my lyrical hand,
Broadens my diction,
While bringing me back to my homeland.
So, walk away for a month or two,
To get my creative juices flowing,
My heartache growing,
And the reason for these tears too.
A.
You are my 3am thoughts,
My midnight fantasies, 6pm concerns,
And the reason for my stomach knots.
In your departure, I await your return,
not because of lust or comfortability,
But pure amicability.
You are my Saturday night live,
My Sunday’s rest,
And my incentive to thrive.
The reason I feel blessed,
Motivated, Assertive,
Worth the while, attractive.
You are my tamed imaginations,
And my wild thoughts.
A special creation,
From our Saviour’s precious mould
You are gold,
Diamond, riches untold.
And if this is all I get
In this life of sin,
Then it’s the one thing I won’t forget
One piece of memory that’ll remain within.
Me.
Because home is where the heart is
And my heart is broken.
A.
My body harboured hate,
So deeply rooted, it took years to eradicate.
Years to reestablish human affection.
But now on my own road to redemption,
You show up like an unwanted guest at the dinner table.
I’m trying to stay sane but my mind remains unstable.
I beg you to leave and you apologise,
Like words erased memories,
And apologies were verbal remedies,
For heartaches and disappointments combined.
Like I was dumb enough,
To run back to a into a version of love that moved on and left me behind.
I forgave you for leaving,
But I would never forgive you for coming back to a love that you don’t deserve.
A.
My mind is forgetting
The reasons I fell for you.
It’s my coping mechanism
And I don’t know what to do.
A.
I can feel potential love slowly slipping away
But I’m too tired, too weak
Too scared to convince it to stay.
A.
Over here, we don’t say I love you
Or ask about feelings like this was some sort of interview.
We don’t cry, not publicly.
We don’t speak comforting words, not literally.
We can’t be supportive, not emotionally,
So I apologise,
For learning to love differently.
I learned that even in love, we got to be tough.
So I would stay awake for as long as insomnia torments you,
And I would hold your hand while you walk through the valley of the shadow of death.
In situations where you feel small, I would bend over and be your foot stool.
In your temporary defeats, I would sing you praises so loud your enemies would be forced to learn the lyrics.
I would honour and uphold, cater to you and serve.
I would pour in all of my energy, including what’s in my reserve.
But I cannot cry when you cry,
Or pour out my heart, even on the days when I try.
So again, I’m sorry,
Because I can only give what I know
And I’ve only ever known tough love.
A.
One a penny, two a penny, three a penny
Four
Five a penny, six a penny, I’m stopping at seven tiny pennies
But there’s more
There’s 8 pennies, nine pennies, alas the big ten
If that was me counting bodies,
Would you consider me a whore?
Love,
the 11th body
x
Akunna Ezekwem 