Silence is the thickness of the cloud
That shuts girls out on their mothers
To make audience with their thoughts and rain.
When Seidatu walked her innocence on the face of time,
Thrust through cold, hurt and hot,
Silence wiped her wetness, thighs and openness
That she is a broken song to be sang alone.
No one enjoys a song in the noise;
We who did not know how to watch
Ran on her drowning voice like a wagon
That crushed a lost kid.
We helped to pack her body out of herself
To her silence and solitude.
And now we are sitted on our sore buttocks,
Like shepherds, waiting for the lost sheep.
By OLADIMEJI LUQMAN, Sanguine.