She Is The Raging Piece In The Periscope
We are not supposed to be shards of glass, mended by
gold threads from the chains that held our mothers,
Cutting corners and sharp powdery anger
My neighbours yesterday yelled at their daughter.
did not give birth to a daughter so she'd waste her life away in school!
Yet your sons
To get an education.
We're mirrors: reflecting, refracting before we're told at ten
that a girl should not climb trees or dream to look
from the top her brother had and will go beyond.
chains hold a teenager with vision warped in
blood. rose coloured, no.
Come here, child.
I tell you the world wants you to break your person into bits
that suit them.
A person born whole now shakes with fury in a
thousand pieces. thousands make up a periscope.
frequency distorted, exceeding, e X c e e d I n g
but they say you have shattered beautifully.
Now a husk walks into the elevator, hands
bloody with a blank face that should be ridden
in tears. gold threads follow tiny needles into tired
skin. she has bled everywhere.
crawled where you are allowed to walk. but why does
she not smile?
You dare to ask when her depths cannot trace
the line of your smile without pain. Her coat is
dark so you dare not look.
But still, you dare. A slice across your throat
with your own hands
Fareedah Agberemi is a Nigerian student who writes poetry imbued with messages of diverse perspectives. You can find her on Twitter at @cupofsasss or on her blog: themusingsofchocolate.wordpress.com.