POEMS BY ONE MICAIAH
Mater, how far? It’s been five pretty years of ugliness. One of the things that have kept me going for most of these days is my memory of your stare whenever I was around you. I’m sure, in all of those times, you must have been thinking, ‘Finish growing and let’s start flexing’. Unfortunately, you never got the chance to live this long, and sadly, we, your children, are left to suffer more for it.
Mater, how far? It took dad many days to stay in line, and even on the bitty lines he managed to stay on, he’s still not where he’s supposed to be with us. He must have cried in times past, probably during the early times of your demise because of his sluggishness in keeping up, but I doubt if those tears come visiting anymore. He’s no less as good as he used to be; just a bit better. Sometimes, we wish the better is just as good as that of any good father. I cannot imagine his imagination, and if not for the striking resemblance between us, I wouldn’t argue if anyone referred to me as a total bastard of his. Without taking away the goodness in every man, I’m certain he must have also thought of a day we can all be together in perfect peace, enjoying the life he must have been very proud to brag about, without including you in it. Unfortunately, you never got the chance to live this long, and sadly, we, your children, are left to suffer more for it.
Mater, how far? Opeyemi is bigger now than you’d have ever imagined. You should see how beautiful a woman she’s grown to become. My daily wish is that it becomes no late by the time she finds her true self. Anuoluwapo won’t stop looking like you. She’s got that perfect “lepa” figure. The beauty is utterly elaborate and the brains complement it flawlessly. I can only wish, for now, that she becomes as great as you had always imagined. Juliana – ever mother-like – remains just as tolerable as you were, but a bit less. Teniola – her daughter, your namesake, is just an unadulterated request for a granddaughter, and if you were to be alive today, you’d have nothing but pure approval for the union that created such a gemstone. She’s expecting a brother soon, as I am hoping, but if it turns out to be another baby girl, I’d give her another name of yours to bear. They all must have wished you saw these changes with you sitting and smiling through them all. Unfortunately, you never got the chance to live this long and sadly, we, your children, are left to suffer more for it.
Mater, how far? I really miss those stares. I also miss the scares you gave those girls who came too close, those times. I doubt if you’d have been able to run them if you were still here and I am also very sure you’d be keeping me a secret from your friends with post pubertal daughters. Assuredly, you’d have given up on the girl matters, knowing that my love for you is eternal and that I have never stopped being the good boy you tried raising me to be. You’d have attended my convocation and induction with the biggest kind of heart. You’d have ensured the most delicious kinds of food were available to eat. Most especially, you’d have brought along a company with the most envious kinds of envies. Endlessly, I wish you can see how good I write and how successful I am at it. I wish you are one of the few I’m always happy to share my deepest thoughts with. I wish I could still hear you talk about life the way you’ve continually lived through it. Unfortunately, you never got the chance to live this long, and sadly, we, your children, are left to suffer more for it.
Mater, how far? I haven’t heard from you in a very long while. Mater, how far?
Mikaiah Sunday Oyepintemi also known as One Micaiah is a Medical Laboratory Science graduate of the College of Medicine of the University of Lagos, a writer of poems and short stories and a lover of life. He is a believer of love and true friendship. Writing, to him, is the only way he can speak without talking. He hopes to write and publish as many books as he can, while alive. He looks forward to meeting new friends too. Please follow him on Twitter