Inside This Place: Unsilenced

I don’t want to deal

I never screamed

Never told

Only cried, then stopped crying

I Held myself silent in a nightmare

Full of confessions and replays that

I don’t know how to be without

Blurring the line till I am guilty of being a victim

“Don’t find me”

Somewhere between ripped clothes and shame

I lost myself

Being the broken soul that smiled forever

Openly hidden

In layers of skin, humor and clothes

‘Nobody must find me”

How many times did I call you names?

How many times did I ask to be free before I had learned to stop asking?

Before I mindlessly knew not to bother

To be still and know that god could be a man

Finally learning that tears and spilled milk had no relationship

was the basis of my silence

a beginning for the subtle romance between me and shadows

“Keep my head down, nobody will find me”

But you did

A fate I accepted on a faith that is attuned to skeptics alone

yet I can’t stay not knowing

if it’s time

time to find my pieces

time to wake up this catatonic life

I have all too willingly accepted

A name tag for dogs and a mascot for people who hold the applause

I choose you above my pain

I’m ready to tell you how I became

Just before you found me

But first, we must love so I can live

If I said no before…

Touch me now, again

It’s how I looked at you

and the world exploded into diamond pieces

so I heard every sound

buried in this grave adorned in hate and pain

Touch me again

Because I could not

You screamed for me

If you’d touch me this time

I won’t morph or tell a story

I’ll rent the robes that shadow my voice

I’ll scream differently if you touch me right

You see, I give myself to something other than pain

Stronger than love

Stranger than fiction

so

I recover with you

 

 

 

 

 

THE END. Thank you for reading. This is a series; titled “Inside this place”…  a girl’s journey through abuse, please refer to Inside This Place: The Penultimate to read how it begins.

Inside This Place: The Confrontation

Now I find this man

His silence is not quiet at all

I’m counting again, how long before he leaves

his tenderness translates to

Bone shattering statements with question marks                  

Question marks like meat hooks around my heart

Wanting to dissect

And rip out conversation too soon

Always too soon

I’m woman by age

by time I’m still 10 years old

Afraid if he tries to love me

He’ll find the imprints

You. All of you left in my thighs

Tracks that with time have deepened

Touched my core and turned my sweet to bland

The knowledge of me will drive him in two opposing directions

That I love well and cannot love at all

Stained beyond forgiveness and conversation

from confessions and cum

I cannot stand how I hide myself from happy

I want to say how things changed for me

But my shame is crimson

The fibers around my feigned confidence

Are straws

Not hard enough to keep me

Something much stronger is finding my knees

thawing at my core

Thank you for reading. This is a series; titled “Inside this place”…  a girl’s journey through abuse, please refer to Inside This Place: Unsilenced to read how it ends

Inside This Place: Reiteration

Let’s count the almost-relationships

The ones to tell you how much I hurt

And where they used to touch

Hands creeping in thighs

Kisses being the best-worst memory

In counting I punish myself

I promise myself

The next one I’ll try

Still it is trying to try

My mind a carousel of your faces

Like sticks and stones that just hurt

And change me inside

I’m hardened at the core

“Are you a virgin is that why…?”

Er… yes.

I read my way into passion

At the end of every book I die

Wondering if I will be one of these women

Willing it to be more than a story

“so how is your love life?”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to respond

To say it began at 5, may be 6.

I learned to love without loving at all

15 years ago

How I learned not to sleep

Saying goodnight took a little longer

15 years ago

Goodnight princess.

 

 

 

Thank you for reading. This is a series; titled “Inside this place”…  a girl’s journey through abuse, please refer to Inside This Place: The Penultimate to read how it begins.  Follow my blog to see how the character & story unfolds –in poetry. The story continues in Inside This Place: The Confrontation

 

Inside This Place: The Beginning

This is a place that reminds me

why I’m loading up my reasons for waking up

into small fractures of conversation to tell somebody who understands

Because I cannot tell it whole

How children are trusting and unaware

how i am basically child. child!

“Kiss me the way princesses do”

Riddle me this.“Nobody will know”

How can they not know?

Is my pain not transparent in this unusual silence

do i really look the same?

didn’t know how to run

didn’t know to scream

Nobody must know.

This is where we replace no with yes

An exodus of all things unsavory

Pretending to sleep in submission,

I become too responsible to be child

And too  naïve to be adult

But I’m no longer innocent , you see

They’ve fractured my soul and taken pieces for themselves

Chunks of skin for being a good girl

My kiss,  my child, my woman

The Slavery in my thighs, I want to give it away

I want to give it away every time…

like it was stolen

10 years old without repercussion

You must learn to use your tongue

Mummy pay attention.

Mummy check. Check me

For I cannot show you myself.

Thank you for reading. This is a series; titled “Inside this place”…  a girl’s journey through abuse, please refer to Inside This Place: The Penultimate to read how it begins.  Follow my blog to see how the character & story unfolds –in poetry. The story continues in Inside This Place: Reiteration

Inside This Place: Penultimate

The shells that were created in your names are beginning to fall apart

And I’m begging for an encore

Because I’ve never stepped outside this home  

But

This crack on surface, this hole in wall

Tells me to be prepared

A tsunami of emotions, my consequences for building

From your actions

And staying quiet too long are pulling me in.

Asking me where my heart is

Asking me if I can find it…

He loves me

I sense the confrontation

Like open wounds of fallen soldiers who put me here

Relief

I thought would feel like a sense of sun, the last time it rained without remorse

Instead

It just rained without remorse

And I don’t want to deal

I want to be someone other than this woman

Feel something deeper than the pain

Say No louder than before

Torch something other than ground

Touch someone other than myself

And make silence the imploring sound of peace

Without chaos or responsibility

So touch me again

Touch. Me. Again

Thank you for reading. This is a series; titled “Inside this place”…  a girl’s journey through abuse please follow my blog to see how the character & story unfolds –in poetry the story continues in

Inside This Place: The Beginning

As You Rest.

It’s been a year and we are still on our knees
Somehow hoping without even hoping at all
that there’s another way to bring you back
And today at the expense of the hurt
We relive our pain
From phone calls to text messages
From emails to webpage
To lit candles and YouTube videos
Phone calls too late and too early
So today,
We’re keeping the mystery within frames
Within memories
Within prayers
It’s how we love you
How we miss you, Uncle Nnamdi.

From growing and birthdays

Be strong

Be beautiful

The  countdown is over and I’m foreign once again

Dueling with purpose

Somehow I’ve collected this past year in seashells

Some have chipped away and others hardened at the core

But I don’t forget the mysteries that pulled shade from sun

From rain

When it rained in my eyes the beautiful markings of a She-ro*

Outstanding within herself

But I climbed.

From six feet under I became muse and voice

I’m past broken promises and fairytale

God

Nothing but a wilting sheet under your grace

People

Don’t place your insecurities in my hands

I don’t bleed for the world

Once kissing deep into inhibitions

Tired

exchanging relations for relationships

Be strong

Be beautiful

Oga

Because you tried to cradle my innocence for me

You tried to tie it to the bumper of your car

And rev full speed ahead and still be wonderful

But I don’t open doors to lost causes

I happened on purpose

So i’ll keep these scars from way back when

And make tattoos out of the ones that scare me the most

My chin follows my heart and another journey begins

My steps now align

It’s been a while since I stood tall

Stood 23 enough for recognition.

Always strong

Always beautiful

THIRTY DAYS ONLY : DAY THIRTY

Write a blog entry, one per day for 30 days on the following subjects the very words that set in motion that i prove to myself that i could, would, will & can. I’ve been thinking…

The support i#ve had doing this was simply divine. Thank you, especially.

DAY THIRTY. What changed this month and what you hope will happen next month.

I’ve been thinking these words even before day fifteen but basically what happens next, not at all about what has changed. That part is easy.  What has changed? I cut my hair… shaved the lot of it, I didn’t plan to -I kind of walked into the salon and seated myself in a barber’s chair… the rest as someone once said, is history.  Then there’s my writing, I haven’t written so much about myself before, half of me is grateful for that because, there are a lot of things that I’ve never had to think about, for some -I didn’t want to. So, my writing is coming to half of my full circle.

I’m more reserved than I was in DAY ONE, there’s an explanation for how that happened but I don’t have it… no stories to tell, except the more I wrote the more closed up I became (if you figure something out please tell me).

I’ve also discovered that there are worse things than being called dear… like losing a friend to weird unpredictable situations and still caring that it happened (nope. still alive).

Hmm what else… I have more readers coming to my blog and I’ve met a lot of new people- they aren’t friends yet. I’m not particularly eager. Nothing’s wrong with them by the way, I count them as blessings and such… I just don’t want the responsibility of another person’s -ish (feelings and what not). Tell me if it makes sense or No.

I’ve had to visit the blogs of some fantastic writers and it encourages me a lot, so i thank you guys for following and giving me that opportunity

Ah I almost forgot… my name is giving me problem (Obii), I’m not sure I like it anymore… I had a spoken word performance a few nights ago and was surprised when I was called that I found myself wishing I heard something else… like Sensei, I’ve always been obsessed with Asian culture and took a little shine to Kanji. You will find that the literal* meaning of Sensei is master and liberally it’s used to show respect to someone who has shown unique skill of a certain profession or art form. I didn’t choose sensei because I feel like any of that. I did so because it’s a constant reminder that I’m nowhere near where i want to be. It’s a wakeup call every time i hear it. Well… Rayo shut me down. She says its cliché. I do believe that but not entirely, she’s sure I’ll regret it in the near future. I’m listening to her because I have too much respect for what comes out of her mouth/mind/heart.  *whisper* I’m not letting it go

What will happen next month? I expect to spend some of it in Calabar… I hope that still happens, because my feet is itching to travel… there’s also another situation I’ve been thinking over, something fantastic I want to do with my  blog but I realise I have to establish myself as a writer before it can happen… all in due time. J

I’m going to keep writing

I’ll always be weird…

YOUR SENSEI, OBII

THIRTY DAYS ONLY : DAY TWENTY-NINE

 29 days of blogging and it comes to this… i’ve been thinking about a post i want to put up, i guess i’ll do that once i’m through with the challenge.

DAY TWENTY-NINE. A picture of yourself

This is she… y’all still with me?

THIRTY DAYS ONLY : DAY TWENTY-EIGHT

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT. The month you were happiest this year why.

SEPTEMBER… This year, I finally did something worthwhile, unplanned and it changed me inside. If I can tell you what naija poetry slam did for me, I already would have. The words are not there because words had nothing to with who i became by standing on a stage and waiting to become an expression… i wonder if my gratitude is to Bassey Ikpi or to myself or  Rayo. Or Fu’ad..  there’s a list.

i’m posting my entry poem again… just go with it.        it’s titled No Permanent Address.

When I was 9

my mother placed three books in my hands and said, “read”

The first time I read, I arrived.

I was Nko, a girl who wanted so much more,

A dead man waiting to be avenged

One of three different women

seeking recognition in a  world that once said

She should be seen and not heard

First within the pages of Nwapa, emecheta & Onwu

… Then… Achebe, Amadi & Ike.

I found an identity every time I needed one

An escape from the cultural afflictions that lined streets.

Or the military presence that threatened the peace of lagos

HOME…

I’ve known no place better that the ridge back

and ashy scent of pages

Where my imagination would come alive

threatening to steal me from this world

Yes if you please!

Everytime I was with a book

It was

*snap-snap*

Obii r u still here?

No I wasn’t

I was in my first newyam festival,

taking my first train ride to Kafanchan

Books to me  Housseni’s Thousand Splendid Suns

and I was going to catch at least nine hundred and ninety-nine.

it was then I recognised the essence of a story

and by 15 I knew I would oneday tell mine.

When I discovered poetry,

I decided there were not enough colours in the world.

Okeke, christiana Rossetti, Okigbo…shaped my hand, my future.

A few weeks ago…

We had to move house and all that mattered to me was

3boxes and one ghana-must-go…

Home came to me in 3 books, then 4, then 300

One day it’ll be a million and I’ll still be counting

Because the Places I Want to go ,

the things I want to see, The house that built me…

All came in fragile pages that stand like pillars 23years and counting.

 

TILL TOMORROW