Neonatal

It's the child
not death that gets at you;

The way his father
Clutches him to his bosom

The way the mother
Stares blankly on;

Deprived of neonatal joy
Denied it's parenthood.

It's the way he lowers him
Into his eternal bed of dark earth

The way he looks back
At his wife bravely, silently wailing.

It's the baby
Not death that gets at you;

His darken, once radiant face
His tiny fingers in a final clutch

His innocence
His deprivation

It's the baby


Not death.


~ Jude Ifeme



Burying my newly born nephew was my first, he was just one week old. The hardest thing in the world is to ever have something you wish for but couldn't keep. Watching my sister and her husband was devastating, but I was decimated at the sight of the dead baby, and the thought of all the things that could have been.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Finding The Bond

My strongest addiction as a single was reading. Being alone was bliss and gave me ample time to devour as much literature as one could come by. I had very little care for what happened in other social spaces.  When I got married some years ago I had fears my lifestyle might have some effect on my family bonding, so I chose family. I found a great partner in my wife and have bonded excellently with my kids. But my love for the books and writing have suffered tremendously. A few months ago, I decided to return to reading​. If you were a reader you would know that if you've ever read a book that it has a way of reaching back to you whenever you saw the title. Going through my shelve, I realized I could sense and recollect every book's content by a mere touch; these were old friends indeed. And it struck me I have not bought new ones in a while. I have returned to reading, having made friends with the kids. I know they must sometimes wonder why Daddy suddenly has to stare for
Read more

A Letter to My Daugther

Dear daughter,   As I look down on this blank, unlined paper waiting to get inscribed with ink, I could imagine an angelic face on the brink of making a transition into a world of many wonders. I want you to know that you have been loved already. I could only imagine what it’s like over there on the other side, so I think you should consider it a fatherly advice and hold on to as much memory as you could while crossing over to this journey full of treachery and pain, hopelessness, and yet permeated with a lot of joy, and I hope you will come to add to its beauty. It is a world of many influences. A world of riches and poverty, highs and lows, wisdom and folly, fame and shame: a world of immense prejudice and little justice. But it is also a world where you can be anything you want to be, if you don’t let anyone tell you otherwise! You are a woman, yes? The world expects a lot from your kind yet! So you are also awaited. I want you to know you can do all that without letting
Read more

FATE

Image
Fate By: J.Ifeme Elo “Mister, this is the last stop.” The conductor’s growls in Pidgin English and taps his shoulder rather unkindly. He shudders awake. He saw her again, Farida; so young, and so beautiful. It was ten years ago but he still gets these flashes of the last intimate moment they shared; the naïve promise of commitment; the caress of eager hands; their first and final kiss before she disappeared. It took weeks for him to gather they fled to England because her father became a target for the then military regime for sympathizing with dissident democrats, and exile was the safest choice. Over the years, he had wondered why it had to be her, why it had to be then, and above all, why he had to love her so much that her departure shut down a complete half of him. Today’s flashes ended with the conversation he had with his mother just days after Farida’s disappearance. “It is fate, my son,” she had assured him, “you have to accept it and move on. Concentrate on going to the u
Read more