My mind, a Habitat for Ghosts

My peers walked upright
I found myself staggering
Was I born drunk?
For only drunks I knew tottered around our village
But I knew I was sober and sound
The unequalled legs defaulted.

 My peers mocked my strife to catch up:
One-legged boy - they cheered!
When they ran, I doddered along.

 My peers chuckled:
They played football, I sat lonely
Quietly cursing the dimidiate leg
And questioning the event – of the imbalance:
Vaccination or accident?
A careless mother or a drunk Obatala?
Some questions deserve a protracted silence!

                   * * *

A history of trauma reincarnates enmity:
A million ghosts are sheltered in my heart
And the veins badly shattered
Not that I authorised them
They play their game, paying me in manifolds
My blood serves the zing of their wine
The scalpel insists my heart is spotless
The doctor needs a seraphic microscope
The babalawo is yet to hear from his Oracle
But I know when my upper story gets busied

 What's this pain that sings a rare rhyme?
What's this wound that plays a ghost?
Imagine your heart as a habitat for ghosts!

                        * * *      

The pain almost sucked dry my humanity blood
Until:
My peers ran and I outran them
They wondered how the wonder came about
I had mastered the shortcuts during their vain wandering
They stooped to learn my wonder.

I was lured to the centre of their cherished circle
My teaching well tendered their derision,
Which they willingly unlearned.

---

Wuyi Ayo (Adewuyi Aremu Ayodeji) is a Nigerian and holder of a master’s degree in Literature-in-English. His poems are published or forthcoming in Pensive: A Global Journal of Spirituality and the Arts, The Sextant Review, Open Minds Quarterly, The Liar Collective, etc.