Breaking News

ABIKU (The withered fertility) By Mercy Oluwarinu


Mama rues the days she bears me.

Her tongue spits a burning fire,

An antique dagger it remains

In the heart of father.


In the wake of the sun

she would curse her hidden stars.

And in moon’s reign

would praise the ancestral power

Of the river goddess who smut her

The wound of a withered fertility.


When the bells chimed to her hopeless hope

And the birds chirped on Her bleeding cross

Mother’s tears would warm grey’s wind

“Maybe” she thought

“My salty tears would sweeten this bitter womb I carry.”




Mother’s numbed spirit called out

But I had sneezed my last on her hand

As she caressed my empty form

Willing my sealed lips to suck to life

her dried up milk.


~ Mercy Oluwarinu.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *