I’m just Thirteen by Okereke Micheal

From my archive


Lay no hands on my chrysalis,
Let it make itself a beautiful butterfly
Tamper not with my foetus,
Let it make itself a mature maiden.

I’m an innocent little soul
Who has mounts of goals to climb,
Lots of dreams to chase
And a pile of stones to grind.

Feed me with bread and water,
Carve and shape me into a shape,
Give me books and give me pen
And not this muscular beast in man’s clothing.

Stoop into my age and see what I see
My thought is too weak for this maternal task
Unsheathe your sword and fight my fight
Fight me out, lest I fall into this eternal pit.

Tell of this war to my father
Tell it to him in the moon
Blow it into the hole of his pinnacle
When his turbulent nerves are at rest.

How will you feel,
When the infertile soil of my womb
Is forced to swallow the seed of grain
Whose buttress root, creeps into my cervix
Causing me eternal scars?

Mother, join forces with father
Say NO to every Beast that seeks
My hands in marriage
Tell them my fruit is yet unripe
That I’m just THIRTEEN.



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