NOSAKHARE
COLLINS
As
You Weep
there
will always be a person standing beside the corridor
waiting
to teach you how to feel happy
and how
to hide your fear in the monologue of love
as you
weep to survive
child,
first, you must learn how to forgive yourself
and how
to love yourself
and how
to start all over even in the edge of pains
the night
is never meant for you to feel sombre
and feel
restless
is never
meant for you to call it the day to die
or call
it the end of the day
look
yourself in the mirror
and start
to see yourself as the future and hope
of
tomorrow
Xeroderma Pigmentosum
/pɪg mənˈtoʊ səm/
[pig-muh n-toh-suh m]
Xeroderma
pigmentosum (XP) is a very rare skin disorder where a person is highly
sensitive to sunlight, has premature skin ageing and is prone to developing
skin cancers
1.
when i
told my parents, my strength is failing me,
the sun
has rejected my feelings & good friends
and
things meant for me to do has kept me indoor silent
&
depressed
they look
at me like a little boy who is yet to believe Christ exist —
like
Christ was up in heaven staring at me
about to
wish me a litany of heal songs
as smile
open cave in their cheeks
as if god
will come down & heal me
from what
is already meant to die my body
i
couldn’t imagine but how confused it was for me
when
mother stare at me and said a few words of encouragement;
it a
hypotenuse of darkness that is inside you
we can’t
loss you now
& we
hope you fight to survive.
she calls
it a hypotenuse of darkness
and sees
it as enemy
&
call on god every opportunity
but she
forgot it’s as a result of a defect
in the
DNA repair system
as a
result of a nucleotide excision repair (NER) system;
(a) genome (gg)-NER
(b) transcription-coupled (TC)-NER.
when a
body shows unhealthy symptoms
healing
cannot be set on the body?
if a body
is already set on fire
the earth
began to crumble
upon the
ocean?
&
perhaps,
it's
already said,
you
cannot heal what is already quenching
&
this is a disorder
no
medical practitioner
can heal
not even
your gods
you can’t
break what is broken
or lose
what can’t be loosed.
i felt
silence reckoning on my body
i held a
guitar on my hands
that
would but be a way
to make
me feel happy
it seems
am away with sadness
plays it
string of delusion on my head
voicing;
i might be heal.
i am like
an open book that is about to spells darkness in day light
i will
tell the sun everything i know
about the
darkest curves as earth
i am on
wheel driving straight
to where
i might see the sun shine
upon me
i have
walk alone inside my house
so i
might not die
but it’s
hard to believe something am not
that
someday my body shall open himself to the darkest curves.
&
perhaps,
when the
sun shine.
2.
mother
say i shouldn’t move out
that my
body is highly sensitive to sunlight
that my
body is synagogue temple
worshipping
it own immune hypersensitive self
like
bacteria that acumen my body
&
indeed
this is
a
disorder
like the
one who returns
& not
the one who returns
gold with
silver
but fate
befalling
them all
like cone
on my body
masochism
makes the day
disturb
the peace of raising
call
itself monochrome of art
in my
body
call it
nausea of profundity
warped
herself inside me
but do
not call it grandeur
you can
call what has rebel the fine babel of rhymes
a
magnificent
some
poems are like that;.
you call
them beauty beautiful
when
their first sentence hasn’t rescue
a
depressed victim
hope to
pluck sweet fruit from a tree that lingers
3.
then,
growing
i told
mother i want to be
a poet
who
remembers
the event
and time
and the
many struggles to survive
inverted
moment
rotten
time
repair
histories
&
casualties
and throw
the
infirmities
in
dustbin
and
rearrange
the earth
from
falling
4.
a xp lady
pick herself up
a guitar
& started playing
the
months left in her life
on a
train station
there are
songs she plays
from her
purple cover diary
that
makes me shredding
tears on
bus station
there
were others who scream at her
to shut
the fuck up. that she plays badly
she felt
scared and try walking away
until i
stumble at her
i throw
at her a words of encouragement;
who cares
if you sing or play badly
you are
you
&
they are they
play you
& be happy
some may
not know
what you
are playing
but
someone do
& the
primrose birds
hears
a guitar string
somewhere
not far & near
the tree.
in the
morning of it
i heard
my prayers
&
turn on the radio
i heard
her voice on a song
she once
played three weeks
after her
departure
her song
is like
orisons.
—
may our
souls find peace wherever
we find
ourselves
may the
sun shines
on
everyone’s doorsteps
& may
the moon never
cease us
from
walking through
the sun.
Epilogue: Thinking Depression
and the
day you think
to stop
living
would be
the day
people
would stop
trusting
and listening you
and would
be the day
congregation
would start
wishing
you well
it is
that
in love
the one
you love
may not
be the one
who would
love you back
in return
may not
be the one
who says
hallo
but the
one
who might
say
gory
NOSAKHARE
COLLINS
NOSAKHARE
COLLINS is a poet, literary critic, Nigerian
street photographer, blogger, publisher and accountant. Collins finds happiness
in writing, reading, street photography, teaching, traveling, and blogging. He
is the author of a chapbook “a pilgrim of songs” published by SEVHAGE
Publishers, 2018 in Nigeria. Poetry and review have appeared in some National
Dailies and International Magazine; Least Bittern Books, Poetry Festival,
Litpoint Africa Magazine, Indian Periodical Journal, Writers Space Africa,
Antarctica Journal, Sevhage Review, Youth Shade Magazine, Best “New” African
Poets Anthology 2018 & 2019, 84 Delicious Bottle of Wine for Wole Soyinka
Anthology, Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), Alabama’s Best Emerging Poet
Anthology 2019 and Several others. Currently, he is working on his full length
poetry collection.
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