Mother I cry

This poem is a child's written note to her mother. She weeps for the pain and agony that she suffers in the hands of the man she calls 'husband'.

Mother I cry

Mother I cry,
Not the sobbing sounds of an upset child
But the loud cacophony of scattered thunder sounds
For this life, this life we own is borrowed
Rights sold in marriage, not our own
This man, this man I call father
Whose ring circle your fingers
This man is long gone

Lost in the flurry skirts of women unnamed
Cartons of beer on his parade and they;
His muse on those nights when he whistles that old Urhobo song
The myth of that Urhobo warrior and his fifty concubines
The trophy of his battlegun well shot

He is long long gone
Though his drunken frame on the floor trumpets his presence
The mind of him at whose feet you bow in reverence
Submissive woman that you are, in honour of her head
His mind is gone even as his body strangles our being
Not six feet beneath this dusty earth
Six feet beneath those bottles of beer

And Mother I cry, When the moon seats,
for the arms that tie your body to the bed
The creaking sound of aging wood,
A thrust, then a fist to the head and then another
A complete circle, a roundabout
Your silence, lips held right, body motionless
A lifeless imitation of your jovial form
The colour of the your love portion
Once blue, now red

Kidiewo, what is it?
That keeps you still in this one room hole
Eyes black blue, legs broken
Tears flowing like a cascade of unending rivers
What is it?
That makes you still bend your knees saying migwo
When his vendro is the slap that trips you off your feet
What is it?
That makes you set to calm his rumbling stomach
When we never hear the clinking of coins, in exchange for his meal
Why mother are you content
As daily your lips slowly bite your teeth
So your cries and our neighbors ears do not meet

These droplets grow bigger as I weep
For the woman you were, the mother you are and forever will be
For the wife you weren't, you are not and never will be
Mother I cry.

Image credits: Crying face by Angeli7 via deviantart ©2013-2017 Angeli7

Copyright (c) 2017, Opetu Ebibote
for MuseSpill | | |


  1. Mother I cry, wondering if his cup is not yet full with all your tears

  2. Lovely, a subjective wife in the hand of a torturing drunk husband