John Chizoba Vincent Poet Narrative

I Am With My Mother

I am with my mother 
Down the alley in the kitchen
I am loosing her beads and hair
She told me of the BIafran war
How she escaped so many bullets 
Hid under cave for days.
she ate only grasshoppers and rats 
While papa hunt bush rats for her as meat.
She narrated how the Igbos were slaughtered and humiliated 
They were rendered helpless and hopeless in their quest for freedom.


Papa's money was not return to him,
His houses were occupied by another
His children were dejected and refused 
To see the four walls of classroom.
He worn torn clothes up and down 
While mother walked bare footed in the hopeless street
Voiceless, hopeless and clueless
They were in the shadow of themselves.
You could touch their pains.

No one could recognized those dimples on her face
Her lips shone brightly but became dark when
The bloody soldiers tortured its gut.
Hair scattered in the dark tunnel of misery
Her pretty face was ignored for many months
Sh e was sexually abused like a child.
She narrated gently, carefully of her torment.

Now it was over between the two elephants
So make your feelings known to me.
I can not fear the unpredictable nor
Would i cry for milk and food again 
Mothers love would guide and protect me
Unlike the war time when she was helpless.

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