Ololu femi, if you wake from nightmares only to find
gargoyles creeping at the end of your bed,
tell them you are not me. If your heart feels lost,
like it's gone to find the year you didn't live,
whisper to yourself that you are not me.
You wake up aching because your blood is running,
my mistakes are chasing you, tell them you are not me.
You were born here, where liberated women
celebrate their hairless legs.
Where was is romantiv and people pay for diamonds
with paper and not blood.
Where I'm from love is for the glamorous
and your legs are for running.
Understand I did not marry for love,
I ran to your father like an exit door our of a burning building.
I ran from hopelessness into loveless bliss.
It was not an ideal it was survival.
You throw yourself to the wild ones
I've heard you feed the night.
You've learnt to imitate the cracking voice of your father
on a long-distance call. I hear you tell them
'My mother is a migrant who never speaks of home
and my father a passport picture.
How else can I love but distant?'
- indigo williams, london
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar