LOST

A decade behind this lock and key they call my new home,
I still hear the clamor of the seed of my womb,
The beckoning to bed by the man that made me bride.

Like the breath of a second,
I remember it all;
The gunshots that sent life to sleep,
The rustling and rattling of feet,
The splatter of blood.

‘Mama’, the voice of my child drowning in the pool of death.
My eyes rained,
My mouth thundered,
But my hands were found in the grip of another;
It was no longer mine.
My feet protested between sand and will.

The last I remember is darkness.

Now, a decade,
I’m here in an unknown land,
No husband to walk me through sweet dreams,
No child to remind me of motherhood.

I am a slave to a slave master,

My body, a dessert served on the table of hungry mongrels.

I am displaced
I am lost.

Chinelo Nwora

Chinelo Nwora is a writer, poet, transcriber, visual animator and graphic designer. She's a student of University of Lagos, Nigeria, the vice president of the Transcultural Writer's Network, Unilag, and the founder of krievenation. She has written over a hundred poems which she publishes on her blog, she has done a couple of writing projects in Nigeria and abroad.