Your art lives off your heart; our end ends when you start. You are poetree; you wet yourself with your own tears and blood, and your words are the healing, nutritious fruits that our eyes and hearts consume.
He called you “wife material”, so you began to blush.
No matter what she knows, and what she becomes, why is it that what a woman weighs on anyone ‘s wife material scale is what she’s worth?
So, he made you his material, true to his word. He even prostrated to get you- paid your expensive bride price in full. You’re intelligent and beautiful; you’ve been spent in the university too, but you have a new name and owner, who can do whatever he wants to you.
“K’aso e soke!”, [raise your gown!]; “afi ko maa lo e mole bii aso oke” [he demands for the sex he paid for]. He even beats you like “aso ofi”, to tailor you to suit his needs. Your husband’s insecurities have to come first; who are you to have any dreams?
He wears you out, then he wears you out to functions where worthless wife-materials must be worn, to be entitled to respect and dignity. He shows you to his friends and tells them to get one like you. Then he takes you home and hangs you; he’ll respect you at the next event.
I’m not telling you to miss being a Mrs; I’m telling you to not miss your life to be a man’s reserved slave- a Mrs. A single person is a person still; if the society will not accord you respect till you get a husband, whether or not he will abuse you in ways that are socially acceptable, accord the society’s lack of respect no respect and take all the time you need.
People wipe your tears for a while, and then they let them dry on their own.
Religion makes the inability to think/stupidity worse. It’s one thing to want to be saved (from something) by God; It’s another thing to want to save God (from something). A person who (constantly) feels the need to do the latter is stupid.
“How dare you call my God by His first name or wonder if He has big feet? I would slap/kill you right now and He’d be happy because it’d be for His honour.”
The moment a person begins to think like that- the aforementioned- regardless of their God’s instructions against slapping/killing someone or something else, that person becomes a full-blown fool. That person becomes a God over God, God’s God, knowing what is best for Him and what is not, and what should offend Him/what should not, instead of the other way round, as intended. That person has stopped needing God; perhaps, they still do, but they need God much less than they feel God needs them.
“God needs me more than I need Him. I need to defend God; He’s so vulnerable and I need to defend Him and protect Him from being hurt. He doesn’t know how to ‘God’. Maybe He does, but He can’t God on His own. He wants me to help him ‘God’; His words say it.”
The person becomes a fanatic, a crazy being who is now even crazier and happier becomes he feels that He is immune to any judgement of his acts or punishment for his wrongs because He has God [the One who owns anything and everything], and rewards are being/should be prepared for Him instead [in Heaven/the final resting place].
He ‘God’s well, and God is proud. At least, He should be. He should be very proud because he [man] has done the great things that He commanded. Yes. He is not a holy sociopath; he is God’s knight in shining armour.
I’m a woman- a full man and more. A full man with a womb, with feelings and sensitivity and beauty. I’m a human being, not a product. Don’t describe me as “cheap”, “second hand”, “used and dumped”, or whatever you’re used to calling other human beings.
If I tell you I’ve been slept with by 10 men (since my virginity would make me seem more “expensive” than the other “options” that you have in your life, and you’d be more obsessed with pinning a new “star” to your ego than loving me), don’t look at me like that- like I’ve become too old and “unsuitable for purchase”.
When you told me you’ve slept with 15 women, although I didn’t ask, you expected me to be proud of you. To think of you as sexual and “capable”, to think of you as a real man. I’ve told you I’ve slept with 10 men. Think of me as real woman too. Be filled with admiration, why don’t you?
Death is a bully, isn’t it? Life is short, and Death is quite tall. Death defeats life often, but we can’t do a thing. We can’t expel death from the earth; humans can’t preserve their breath. We’re helpless.
On this day of our Love, on this day that La and Gbaja have come together to slaughter “and” without the use of their hands, words will be spoken, hearts will be broken, eyes will fly open, ’cause their dead love is swollen.