It hasn’t always been like this.
Once, this home flourished like a bush of sunflower. You know what I mean,
Each room held a ray of love like a glass mug. Clear.
But now, mother is a labyrinth of thoughts, haunted by the beauty of her past.
And, I am what remains of a crippled union.
I am what is left to hurt on the shards of a broken home.
It is not my fault that I am the souvenir of my father’s desertion.
Or that my smile bruises the scars of my mother’s hard buried sorrow, because it reminds her of his face.
But I have taken it upon myself to share in her sorrow as much as I can. I hope it wears off.
And you don’t know what it feels like. I mean torment. I do. I have tasted first hand of what torment is.
I see mother in pain everyday. A pain she feels I am the blame.
Being the propitiation for my father’s actions,
I am the prey,
And my mother Her tongue, an arrow poisoned with my father’s name.
Eliongema is an eighteen year old from Ika in Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria. He schools at Christian Standard Science College, a school in his hometown. His works have been published or are forthcoming in Brittle Paper, Eboquills, Salamander ink, The Muse UNN, Afritondo and elsewhere. You can connect with through his Facebook account @Eliongema Udofia.