Songs of Anisha
“Mother, Matter and Martha,”
by Adeola Ikuomola
I heard soft footsteps in the kitchen
And listened for my mother’s voice
I got caught up in an endless silence
That ushered sorrow into my heart.
Again and again were the rumblings
And the endless hissings in my bowel
The world around me was in a circle
That no mortal could dare contend.
The virile cocks were heard all over
Cracking the walls of another day
To usher in the bride from the east
Amidst the overlapping songbirds
That competed feather to feather
And throat to throat to celebrate
The virtue in the scarce innocence
Encapsulated in the golden sunrays.
Mother, mother, what is the matter?
I cried out and I heard in response:
I am the matter and not your mother
I am Martha the helpless housemaid.
Mother, hunger and helpless Martha
The tripod upon which my life stood;
Then I thundered with all my strength
Martha, what is the matter with mother?
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