Liberian Literary Magazine
Promoting Liberian literature, Arts and Culture
So far from my purpose
Like the heavens from hell
A distance that cannot be
approximated.
Friendship,all she knows
Relationship,I envision all day
As I sincerely pray that we both be
Bai T.Moore's characters in his 'Love
Without Words'.
But disappointingly it seems it'll never
be,for my moments with her are
moonless
With neither coconut trees nor waves
"Like two lovers playing a relay game."
I mean....they are always beachless.
Yet I can't be a failure
For I'll surley tell her of my love tomorrow.
But it is my grandma’s house
A custody of certainty
Where freedom is measured and
dispensed
In my grandma’s custody
Everything seems possible
Although my grandma is unpredictable
But I am bold, acrobatic and impatient
Embellishing these attributes
My grandma simply smile and giggle
Warm hugs and extra meal are my
rewards
Before the indicting eyes of my
unconscious spectators
Her clutches, the walls, narrow window
and the doors
I enjoy my grandma’s warmth and
delicious meal
In my grandma’s custody
Everything is possible
Stephen is a student at the University of Liberia
reading geology. He hopes to publish his poems
one day. For now, he writes as a passionate habit.
Josiah Joekai Jr.
The poem reflects the general upbringing of
many African children raised by their
grandparents particularly, grandmothers.
Brought up by his grandma during difficult
times, the author reflects on some of the
challenges young or teen African families
face in caring for their children. Education
sojourns in most cases are shattered, hopes
and aspirations for better life remain bleak
and soon, a hopeless future sets in. Little Joe
was one of such kids but fortunately his
grandmother’s relationship with American
Peace Corps was extended to him indirectly.
In his grandmother’s two-room clay house, his
dad and mommy who were junior secondary
school students shared one of the two rooms
and he and his grandmother share the other.
Spending the day in confinement with his
grandmother while his parents were in school
was an experience that the typical African
referred to as “bitter-sweet”. Meaning there
were rosy and sour moments. Even with those
moments, he was the best grandson for his
rewards were consistent and appreciated by
him.
In My Grandma’s Custody
Greeted by early morning birds
Anchored on branches of an old almond
tree
Singing the unchangeable chorus
The unpleasing melody beeps deeper
into our ears
It never ceases to echo
Keeping us awake for the rest of the
morning
Yes, it is in my grandma’s house
Where I am always barricaded
Her clutches, the walls and doors are off
limit
Into a single and narrow window
The hot wheeling air ventilates the old
clay house
Although it seems confining and
discomforting
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