there is drought in my eyes
and my tears are dry like arid swamp
I…. am not weeping though
it is just that sometimes
droplets ooze out from deep within my soul
and wets my eyelids

I am a common African woman
withered breasts drooping with the weight of a newborn
no more milk left in them
my body wrinkled and worn out
not because I am aging
but due to the dark emotional memory
the skull inside me rages with fury
as I rove about in this desert of sorrow
where you dumped me with a seed of you sprouting in my womb
almost naked
in a tattered underwear

I am a maimed skylark
singing a lullaby song
while nursing my emotional wounds
and the pain inflicted in my heart lives on

I still remember
how you plucked me like a blossom
from my mother’s curtilage
I was bud
still a virgin
beautiful like the Eden’s roses
we bowed before my father’s grave
and took a vow
to love and cherish each other
(till death sunders us apart)
then you carried me on your shoulders
and gave me shelter in your soul
that gave me a sigh of relief and renewed hope
you treated me like a queen
each night lit sparkles of bliss in my little heart
the carresses and kisses
the warmth of your tight embrace
all made me feel complete like a full moon
we made love each night till dawn
I chuckled amid cricket sounds and swished like see breeze
and you sowed a seed in my womb
then the goddess of war awoke
the sun set upon my life
midnight silence barked furiously
the clouds darkened
the floods washed away
the vows we made
the dreams we shared
the trust you had
love and everything else
a demon replaced your soul
and turned you into a bloody beast
our bed became a battlefield
of swords and everything that was within your reach
and it became a routine
the sheets became wet
not with orgasm but red fluid

blood
I was served with blows alongside my breakfast
some fell on my tummy
I ate my woeful tears for lunch
my face adorned with scars

You called me a whore
a hopeless hideous witch
and threw me out of your soul
I forgive you… you didnt know
But can’t you at least hear the cries of your own
screaming all through the night
amid the caresses and lullaby songs
can’t you listen to the weeping voice of your child
your own blood
the seed that you planted in my womb?

By Cliff The Poet

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2 thoughts on “TATTERED LOVE

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