by Victoria Nkoro
My childhood memories rave At the person I am becoming They rush back into my fitful head Like the wind caresses one’s skin, They take advantage and rip my form off every ounce of happiness And every moment I close my eyes, they come back Not worthy of eluding my memory. For I spend nights hoping they would go Praying for forgiveness Yet, they bite back like tambolo And now my being has come to accept, To accept the fact that it will never let me be. The moment my sloven self Grazed my mother’s arm, with tears pouring Out of my eyes, in hope for pity In hope for a “sorry” The days my tongue told lies my being could not fathom, In hope for people to forgive my malicious acts, The sharp sting my brain throws at my fatigued body Has become one to urge my being to the edge of a cliff. Every dying minute, I close my eyes and the irrefutable scene plays again I ask for forgiveness, I praise my form, I reassure myself But when this overwhelming feeling comes, It eats every piece of me, it roams its silhouette around my form. Most times, I can not help but shudder With tears brimming from my eyes, Streaking down my cheeks, Clouding my ears, For when will the pain go away? When will the thought of those little mistakes elude my brain? I want to ferociously scream “let me be” But my voice has failed me again; The same voice that uttered silent lies The voice that urged for “just a play” The same voice that sinned The same voice that is hopelessly asking for forgiveness from its maker. The rush hour of the night comes to stay And my eyes glare at my brown ceiling Good thoughts rush in But in no time, my thoughts become an innuendo The good ones placed not too far away from the striking and irking thoughts. To be free is to accept that there was once a fault in one’s life To be free is to come to terms with not fully living with happiness keeping you company To be free is to embrace those irking thoughts and decide to be better But to be in bondage Is to actualize all that has been said without actually being free. The nuance of who I was and who I am. The thoughts I shuddered at and still actualized Are now victims to my once conniving wits. I pray for healing To erase those abominations To erase those lies To erase those tears I pray to my father; “Oh Lord, please forgive me. Help me.”
Victoria Nkoro is a Nigerian creative writer. She finds solace in writing more than anything because it enables her to see the world in a positive light. When she is not writing, she is either going about her language enthusiast journey, reading, painting or working as a beauty and fashion enthusiast.
3 thoughts on “Lingering Childhood Occurrences”
A very good poem, the sky is not your limit, you are going places.
Glad to see these experiences through your words