Saturday, October 22, 2011

First Love

Our people say:
Yoruba: A kì í pè é lẹ́rù ká pè é lọ́ṣọ̀ọ́.
English: One does not call it a burden and also call it an adornment. - Yoruba proverb.
[It's not a poem; something between poetry and prose] cc AduraOjo

To the new man, Sultry:

I'm older now, I know. My skin is rotting and my hair is thinning. But your stunning boast has also worn. Don't ask for any more of my tedious love. I have your ring and your graceless name and I can take nothing more from you. I should have made you swear before Sango or Amadioha or even my father's grave that you would have and hold. You, my husband, have not done much for me. Your words are still and bland like stale bread and they do not refresh me. Your nakedness does not awe me. Have you ever noticed how my hair curls or the flaws on my chin? Do you even know the name of my God?

Allow me travel to the far South where they speak another language. Let me dwell briefly with my first lover, perhaps he will teach me again how to love you. So that when I cook, the food will be tasty and when I pray, it will be for you. I will not dive into the well, all I want is for splashes of refreshment. I know my wish is selfish.

Home is closer to the market man, Aboki,
His oranges are sweet and juicy and never old.
I have learned to recite your stiff sentences,
Like Grace or the Pledge .

The first gave me not very much,
But his heart and prayers and endless love.
He took from me as little too,
My heart and prayers and endless love.

It is only in doing me no right that you have done me wrong.

Your love is sultry, unlike my first.