Written by: Olaewe D Opeyemi

i must admit, i do not know too much about letters —

any kind of letters

except for the ones i was forced to write in school,

the one WAEC asked us to write, the ones i

wrote in farewell to high school

& the folded pieces of paper under our bed

that my sister received from suitors,

the ones that want to break her wall of self-defense

and snick into her heart to

plant the seed of love,

the ones that later escaped with pieces

of her atria & ventricles,

i certainly do not know much of rejection

& letters written behind its name —

its surname,

until I joined the family of shakespeare,

the bricklayers that use words like concrete blocks,

to erect a house of poem on the foundation of a theme.

until i started to hawk my concoction of words to the emails

 & submittable of editors — the

angels that serve justice on people’s work,

saying you go to heaven or hell.

after 1 week or one month or months of your submission,

you’ll see a message stroll into your inbox

like “thank you for sending your work, it does not fit the profile of

our publication” or “we cannot publish it at this time…” &

“we hope you find another buyer for your product”

& you do not see a reason for replying “thanks”,

your countenance will change, except you’re a

hardened veteran in analysing rejection mails

or you’re an arsenal fan

or you’re a serial womanizer.

my teachers in this school say i should not take it personal,

they say it is part of the teething process, a painful offshoot of growth,

they say it’s a secret scar covered under

the cloths of even the most successful of our kind,

they say you should not hang your boot on this field,

until you experience heaven more than hell.

Olaewe D Opeyemi is a budding Nigerian writer. He believes writing is a veritable instrument for social transformation. His articles and poems have been published in a few local and international journals.

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