The sands of Mbanor kiss my feet
As my eyes behold mounds of my past
Thinking of my present as I bury the future

I am at a door in my head
Yesterday a lasting now
Where my will fights convention
Rather than strike at folly
I let my rod slip and take a feather
To tickle correction into my ward
Urging him away from the troubled waters
In which he swims

I find troubles crowd back
And pull him in as he sinks deeper
My feather a stone tied to his feet

I stand before the earth
Fresh sands slipping through my fingers
Drinking of fate’s misfortune
Sipping of my sorrow
Cursing convention as I take a rod
To close the door
Of his memory
Where pain sits astride a father’s loss.


Su’eddie Vershima Agema is an editor and development worker. He has three poetry collections including Home Equals Holes: Tale of an Exile (Joint-Winner, Association of Nigerian Authors Poetry Prize 2014) and a short story collection, The Bottom of another Tale (Shortlist Abubakar Gimba Prize for Short Stories 2015). Su’eddie also won the Mandela Day Short Story Prize 2016. He blogs at http://sueddie.wordpress.com @sueddieagema on Twitter and Instagram. He can also be reached at eddieagema@yahoo.com. He writes from different cities of Mbanor, Nigeria.

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