I was a Little girl

Smiling and laughing innocently at the world's charm

Everything is rose coloured here.

No one gets to ask you questions.

<static> Uncle Junior has called you into his room. It is dark and clammy in here. He doesn't need to hold your mouth to shut your cries.

The gloom in here has choked back your life. He forces in tissues. Futile attempt to dry the blood of your tears.

Limping out. Hushed.

Everything is rain faded here,

the beginning of the end is etched like tribal marks into your future.

No one wants to ask you questions.

Something is missing. But you can't find it. No matter how deep your blood stained fingers probe inside. It is gone.

I was a Little teen

Pretending to smile and laugh cautiously at the vipers' sting Everything is ceramic plated here.

One misstep and this fantasy comes crashing down.

<static> You don't know who you are. With your million faces, selling narratives like a street hawker.

You think you're swindling them, but you're the fool. Counting down your pages of loss. You meet him. He raises a belt and leaves decorations on your skin.

You have eaten from what your mothers have eaten. Amu osu

You now know the taste of man seed mixed with tears and phlegm.

Running out. Hiding in shame.

No one will ask you questions

It is in their clacking fingers. Tufiakwa.

Everything is hidden here.

I am a Little woman

Accepting the pain of her existence guardedly keeping the predator at bay

Everything is metal forged here.

I have passed through fire.

When they see what you've become they will shudder and recoil.

They will ask you questions now,

when they see me lying beneath the crushing weight of their fathers. Rutting away.

A dead corpse in heat.

They will ask questions-

When my body dries away like stockfish to nothing.

When they see me dancing naked at the market square with no shame but my nipples pointing to dead gods above for forgiveness.

When I jump into the warm embrace of mami water but she vomits me,

because I leave a bad taste in her mouth.

They will ask, did she call for help?

You are forsaken.

By: ©HOMA RUTH EJIMS

3/10/23AD