That time has passed,
That time when my innocence was taken by the old brood chosen by my earthly giver of life.
Hmmm! That time has passed,
When I had to go through that strife
Of humiliation, broken dreams and premature adulthood in a decade plus four
That time has passed.
Yes, that time has passed when I had to fly my heels out of marital slavery to the land of the unknown,
Yes, there was that time too,
When Slavery, abuse of all kinds forced that decision without fear of its implications
That too, has passed.
A homeless beggar seeking to carry the whole of the city just to feed,
I made my task.
And my name immediately changed into that given to my kind.
The winds whispered brutalities at first, and loudly brought dust into my eyes,
Worsening my plight.
The rains whipped and flooded my tears but drowned not my sorrows
The sun laughed and burned, but burned not my distress and frustrations,
Even the moderation of all these taunted my existence,
Putting fear in me as to when they will go to their extremes
My bedroom under the weepy evenings was and is still a huge polythene bag
In front of this small ghostly market
Where my farm was forcefully planted on amidst brutalities by God-only-knows-whom.
Nine moons of suffering with an internal un-invited visitor passed gratefully
But then, double visitors showed up externally to stay and be my burden.
I, who could not even this mouth on this body feed,
It has passed, that time has also passed.
There were also the nightly clashes of poor menly warriors clashing and ‘sticking’
When we had to take cover or risk sending ourselves or precious beings like our eyes into our coffins,
And the insults hurled all around me by unknown masters and mistresses
That time has also passed.
Now this body has told on me
I have no external family to run to
The streets have taken one of my visitors
And the other, has taken over from me in this horrible reality
As I sit here,
I ask you, faces of this existence, did I or do I deserve all that and these?
Hear me ears of the wind!
Send my plea to beyond the clouds,
And tell who ever our coordinator is, that enough is enough!
I can no longer continue this horrible journey carrying this burden of self sustenance.
Let whoever is there end this,
Then it will be fair,
Only fair, that the one who journeyed this far with this heavy burden rests.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.
Picture taken from the Vibe Africa site.
Mum Cee 