…To single mothers, my diary seeks to sympathize and adore you.



Why weren’t you clear

Could it be because of the Myopia

The elders suffer from

Or their inability

To take off the lenses of ignorance

Or the hypocrisy and decadence

of the entire village


Volcanoes erupt in my heart

As I listen to the drumbeats,

Of shame…

I begin to doubt my sanity

As banters of the sage

Glide into layers of my subconscious

I see shades of apparition


Everytime mama took her usual strides,

Proof of your existence

Came as gentle spasms in her fecund jar

But warm droplets appeared and trickled

Through the nighth moon

Once more clouding our reasoning,

Feeding our illusions

Still you thrived…


Like a miracle, you emerged

A product of what the elders know,

But decide to leave unspoken

Of what the youths toy with,

Inspite of the sage’s warnings

And proof of the unquestionable nature

Of Olodumare…


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