Happiness is a Boat
after Sadiq Oyekanmi’s “paper boat”
v.
death is fluid
it will flow into every household someday
and if it tries to drown you in its current
bring out a boat
iv.
for there is no such thing as a happy death when misery seizes your heart
& old age climbs your back,
but we can all die happy like a ripe agbalomo falling into a thirst tongue,
we can look at our children
& tell them that their stories mustn’t wear sadness before it looks valid.
iii.
i visited the rivers in my village & heard of how boats bring us to new lands
since then i tell myself not to wear happiness if sadness is all i need to polish,
today/my prayers returned as a beautiful smile/a jaunty face/and happiness ferried it
home//some days sadness covers all the land we seek solace/ and our smiles are too weak
to keep us afloat// but there is always a boat sitting at the right arm of the clock
ii
everyday my memories grow into chrysanthemums—
there are withered roses i wish i could smell again
at my mother’s grave— but grief have grown shapeless
into void
since i sailed away from home
i
today i took all the sad letters from my poem and gave
it as a sea offering,
for there is a happy boat always
at the other side of grief.
agbalomo – white star apple fruit
THE PLIGHT OF A HEART AT WAR WITH GOD
at the balcony today
i saw macheted bodies— blood making icing on their flesh,
swarms of flies teasing their nostrils and a lifeless smile hanging
beside their mouths
My father would say
“The day you pass a dead body close your eyes and whisper to heaven”
i have closed my eyes for too long that i feel it sinking deep
into my socket
the walls of my heart are at war with God, and it draws the life
out of my prayers.
These days i see God trying to create a soft spot for Himself in my heart
and smuggle happiness inside, but He meets a void,
i stopped being an adult at 9
the day the president in a live broadcast announced the reduction
in the price of our lives and charged the locust to feed on the edges
of our names; since then i lost my heart.
There are still many unheard stories
some looking for lips to give them home,
others are tied to crippled legs looking for their way
to God,
and some stories of many hearts at war with God
Ozota Gerald Obinna
is a Pharmacist who writes from a town called Nsukka in Enugu, Nigeria. He loves listening to Brymo and the Cavemen. Whenever he is not busy reading about drugs, he finds time to write about losses and grief. His poetry chapbook Catharsis was recently published at poetsinnigeria.org.ng, and he has poems published on Ngiga review, Kalahari review, Rising phoenix review, Praxis magazine and other places with works also forthcoming. He writes to stay happy.
He chats with the following handles Facebook @Ozota Gerald Obinna
Instagram @Ozotagerald. Twitter @Ozotagerald.
