Sylvester Nnoli


At a dew point, it drizzles down deep on my roof.
Gradually thunder strikes and lightning flashes in my hood
Then the barmy rain comes along and shouts of joy is on a loop

Mother is no exception, yes!
Her voice roars like that of a lion
So long and loud, dashing out through the windows
He is seven! She shouts louder and louder

Consoling me that my birthday has brought showers of blessings
Mother is like a busy bee
Filling all the household containers one after the other
How can showers of blessing become bitter?

The old thatched roof has become so porous
Crying out so loud and pouring down tears from every part of her cheek
Such becomes the drop that keeps mother so busy in the dark
And suddenly, it spreads all through the floor

And as a curse in disguise, it displace objects around our home
From the outer sitting room to the inner hurt
And as the roof cries down tears from her eyes,
Mother did the same too

Tears pouring down her cheek like the waterfalls
And each time i stood to look into her eyes
She conceals her face, gives me her back with a birthday song
Poor widow in a doom, is she really enjoying this?

I cannot help but join, knowing that history has given me this role to play
Then in the course, no one knows how the light of the day,
Pierces through the dark of the night
And at my waist stage, our entire home turns a pool

And even when am not crying, tears start flowing down my cheek too
It was at this stage that mother cries out loud, asking God why?
As she lifts me up high and heads for a run.


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