Lines written in the days of unrequited forgetfulness
By Gideon Emmanuel
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, it is not poised on the tip of your tongue, not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. – Billy Collins
childhood
memories are like
lanterns with a false burning
The walls in my room are growing old & cold
& I have suppressed into my mother’s
sketched portrait in my room.
Twelve years since she left. The library in my room is empty with fading lines
It’s the season of forgetfulness. I forget her
pet names as I do my old addictions.
Emptiness, as though the stars had burned
their last, clothes me
memories of her turn sour as the cold taste
of unripe grapes would slit my tongue.
My childhood was but a gloomy fig tree
& the wind wasn’t so kind to a frail body
parachuting in a befogged cloud.
My nights were so green & the stars flickered
in my eyes like halogenated lamps.
I grew up, eventually & memories still are like
lanterns with a false burning
This time, memories snapped back
into my mother’s portrait &
greeted me with its hues.
I have this fragrance around me, but it
only oozed when the need to let go, to forget
overcame the need to stay clamped to these memories.
BIO:
Gideon Emmanuel (he/him) is a young poet and teacher from Lagos, Nigeria, who adores nature and children. His poems have appeared in Eboquills, U_Rights Magazine, Arthur Anthology, Boardspeck, Street Child Anthology, Terror House, Agape Review, Poemify Publisher, Fiery Scribe Review, Brittle Papers & Flat Ink Journal & forthcoming in Stripes Magazine. For leisure, you’ll find him teaching, reading, writing, meditating, and cooking. Find him on Facebook at Ubaha Gideon Emmanuel.
Twitter: @GideonE52756732
- Instagram: gideon_emmaunel_890.
