ABIKU (Durosinmi)

Mum told a story when i was little
About how children are being born.
She said while one could choose to come through people,
Another may come through a thorn.

She had said it was tough growing a child.
Not about nights that were sleepless.
The line we cross to become tamed or wild
Forces a mum into distress.

She wanted a baby who would listen
To moonlight tales and not change shape.
She wanted the one whose eyes would glisten
And never cause her knees to scrape.

I had asked her which one i was to her
She said, “On your chest is a scar,
Dro-Orike. This is your return.”

Leonell