My family is a shattered porcelain, or should I say a once beautiful flower sucked by the proboscis of depression.
Today, I wake to the aroma Of my mother’s cooking that is to say I wake to the reminder that an eighteen year old boy should be a harbour for naira;
That is to say, despite her being a cook, I am hungry for solace.
There is no difference between home and a cemetery;
Nothing is alive here, even my father’s voice moultsinto mumbles to whispers into whimpers.
That is to say, my father’s face is a fertile ground where my depression sprout.
The thoughts of going home to words transporting,
Leaves me numb
I rather sit here and watch the flowers dance to the wind’s arrival, than go home to air polluted with grief,
I mean once, home was a woman with her arms open to me, but now, she smacks me on the face, and leaves me groping in the mud.
About the Writer
Favour Raymond is a young creative from Ito, Ika Local Government Area, Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria. He loves writing poems for the joy he derives from it. When he isn’t writing, he listens to music or plays games.