Daddy issues

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Picture gotten from-Pinterest

There are three main things self-reflection may teach a patient mind: self-discipline, acceptance/openness and self-control. There are many ways people may choose to reflect which may either be loud or to the heart.

We are greater than the things we say for ourselves. We restrict our abilities to only what our eyes may have encountered and not fully with our minds and brains. We neglect the paths our hearts may create for us in thoughts of it being fragile and so delicate, forgetting that what’s broken may still be broken again in order for it to mend.

Submission

I’m very aware of reasons why feminists fight to be heard. I don’t blame extreme sexists that pull major chords as I’m intertwined in being non-feminist and sexist at the same time. I break a little when I watch things not add up with submission, when women are ridiculed about their softness. I’ve watched mum for years, I’ve seen loyalty, I’ve questioned her love.  “How can a woman, so powerful, so filled with knowledge be this?” I’ve seen other women too. I’ve watched myself try to grow out of it but it’s a born ritual. It’s my own way of welcoming peace. It’s my only power over the other.

Trust

We can totally be honest with each other but lack this. We can hold hands, laugh, talk about the children and eat in good silence when we are certain about our distrust for each other. Evenings made me believe that the sun may rise at sunset. My sister and I would read conversations with words very familiar with love written by unfamiliar people. We would both lay under blankets and brew gossips about these evenings. We were soul sisters. We grew to hate what men that looked like this do. We still talk about it, we still cry a little over what we’ve known. It’s almost like disappearing from what seems to mean good because we weren’t shown how goodness can be trusted when it’s felt. It’s not normal to be thought of  that way by another, I think every now and then.

I wish I have someone to blame everytime I choose to run with my eyes. I hope everyday for the day I was first heart broken by my eyes to be erased from my head. I don’t want to be reminded of being broken in a place that I should run to when I’m broken. I hate to talk about home to people that don’t feel like home, I don’t hate to run from home because of my eyes and the crotches it walks with when there. I hate the thought that the first man that warmed my hands when I came into this cold world stalls me from breathing into a certain type of peace I crave.

Daddy issues.

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017

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Happy women’s Day

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Picture gotten from-Figurative art

To be here, to join hands and to murmur what it’s like to feel this way. To feel like a woman that I didn’t choose to be but of the nature that chose me.

Here is to all the days and all the nights I stay with me, with womanhood thinking of how big of a smile I should give the next day even whilst groaning in pain. Here’s for now, where neglect and responsibility will cut through deep layers of my skin, yet I’ll stand and be silent of it all. I wish to celebrate everyday for the rest of my life women whose existence have hurt and broken them in ways that can’t be told or written, yet love is all they give.

To women of all colours and roles in life, you are a bold statue that can’t be washed away by lingering figures. You are waterproof and transparent amidst where you think you’ve been. You are still a rose to be admired by men that stand with you. You are deserving of all favours you’ve been turned down. You are all this because you are a woman.

The universe will make love to you in good timing, woman. we will all celebrate the joy and pride of being a woman with you because you are valuable and valid.

I hope you take care of yourself everyday for the rest of your days here. Happy WOMEN’S DAY!

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

A poem for self- millennial poetry

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Remind me who takes it all at last,

the cries, the shame, worries and joys in the past.

These ones never heard of you,

the whole, priceless yet worthy of a true.

LOVE ME ALL THE TIME.

I didn’t need you when I needed to pray,

to wear my make-up, spray and slay.

Who left my name in your mouth?

with your opinions stinging and stinking like gout.

LOVE ME BACK TO BACK.

Can I say a word or two?

about myself, my worth, the way I eat too.

It’s not my taste for men you despise so,

but the way I love and love me to toe.

LOVE ME IN THIS SEASON.

Life without me is like no life

no star, no queen, less diamonds, no wife.

I’ll pay my weaknesses with strength and love

nevertheless, these words won’t stall or put me off.

LOVE ME WITHOUT REASON

 

 

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.

 

 

Girls’ Power

I am not a feminist. I still believe in men.

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The few that see and value superiority and control in men without insolence and downgrade to women, are the populace I belong to. I love to see men take charge, give, lead and follow too. Not despising feminism in any sort, I only believe that strong-willed, confident and smart women have a place after men.

Going back to the time women knew their place, there was less competition over power, fame or even men. Women were women. Then, a woman would let a foreigner or even a maid lay with and marry the husband for different reasons. Men grew strong and knew how to treat women without needing to read books or listen to stories  about them. They were bold and was only weakened by other men.

Yes! things are different now and yes we are in a new era but that doesn’t change the fact that men are men and women are women and that they are two opposite categories.

I admire the courage of feminists, their burning desire to gain rights, fight and measure up to the standards of men. Their unending quote of “what a man can do, a woman can do even better”. It’s far from doubts but when you become a man as a woman what do you make a man? Weak, lame, confused, chilled, less confident, listener than a doer , woman…

The society is always thirsty for stability so it creates turbulence that leaves us evolving before time. If only these women fight to measure up to the standards of their fellow women…If only they uplifted their fellow women and gave credits and compliments where needed… If only we craved the desire to shape ourselves, cloth our nakedness and let men own the jealousy…If only we knew that our power lies behind the strength of a man’s not on our tongues and looks..If only women want to be women, men wouldn’t be silent for this long.

I’m aware of the rights and I’m also aware that I’m a wo-man.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.

The dance saved for the last fight

Picture gotten from-Trust territory

Were we the maiden’s girls?

or just mermaids covered with horse tails?

The goat only bleated once

but twice, there was neither a sound or an ounce

Hurry! babe with those cracking feet

so we could bury their guns and soak their teeth

It’s you who waved defeat to come

and sorrows not done for an untold storm.

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I sent my word to the atheist

for his ignorant and rags of pants that frown to exist

I called for a bellow in agony

in exchange for their petty naiveness not money

How many laterns glowed in their caves?

not to talk of their wails, tweets and raves

when would the drummers call the gong man?

so we would dance and dance till night and still tan.

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I love the sound of silence

the face we give when in need of its pence

sunsets made us believe. In what?

Parallel token given with tips and a dot

Sing with pride and  white men would dance

Sing alone and ebony would leave you a glance

would you rather I sat here?

near, far or there?

So I could watch the night

and do the dance saved for the last fight.

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Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2015.