Ujunwa, have they told papa that
I am a story wrapped in a parcel,
Held in place by a colorful ribbon of tears?
Did papa believe them when they told him,
That I am the ashes of burnt dreams,
Waiting to be whisked away by wandering winds,
From the fireplace of broken ambitions?
I know Uju, I know that I am the shadow
Of a lost wonder, tiptoeing through
The thick forests of fears,
Without a map to guide me home.
But I hope this secret has not leaked from
The lips of the gossiping evening winds-
That’s sits by the window of papa’s thoughts
Idling until the break of an unbroken day.
Uju, tell papa that I am the wandering smile
He sought in the wilderness of frowns.
Tell papa that I am the ‘female son’ who will
Mop the distasteful stare that trails a man
Who has nothing but daughters