HER WOMB STILL CARRIED ME TO MY CRADLE (poetry by Jesse PHeeBEMI Emmanuella

 

HER WOMB STILL CARRIED ME TO MY CRADLE 

After eternity, I might sleep in my cradle to relieve my sinful soul of righteousness

My legs won’t hurt a lot; I would char my feet and grill it to my taste

Nami would kiss my toes goodbye for my shoes are sore

She would look through my clouded eyes, listening to my voiceless mumbles

True to my words; what would I even mumble?

Waterfalls from her eyes would wash my legs,

 Cleaning them with supplications from her lips 

She ran over my knuckles soft a towel

Her croaky, tired voice gave me hope as well

True to my words; I remembered what I would mumble

Only the dome knows what I said

That is why every day, while Nami is asleep and 

The stars are dozing off while their lamps are quickened, 

I speak to the clouds 

The moon would sit behind me to eavesdrop

Time tamed, even though far spent

I would weave my hands into supplications 

For my lips would soon taste grief

Behold, I am the forbidden bastard child of a monk.

About The Author 

Jesse Pheebemi Emmanuella is a young poet from Taraba State, Nigeria. She has her works published in literary magazines such as Bluebirds scribe review, Synchronized Chaos and Words-Empire. She is a student of Helena Heritage Academy, a member of Hilltop Creative Arts Foundation-hcaf_10 and The Newborn Poets Forum.