DEPARTURE

                Suppose our bones are parables,
                too old for the body to carry,
                or call them catalogs of broken cartilage,
                waiting to be stitched.

Yesterday, under the withered guava tree, where my umbilical cord is buried,
my grandmother spent the night stitching her bones like torn fabric
till the night swallowed her up.

Depression is a talisman, carved to hang us, like a portrait,
but when pain sits like a stone in a woman’s pelvis,
when it becomes too old for the body to wear,
where do we go?
Isn’t home what the body yearns for?

A man who longs for departure, sees water and calls it home,
wraps his body with verses of melancholy, then
leaves it swaying like a capsizing ship,
till his body finds its way into the banks of the Nile.

Agreed—
Depression is a graveyard. It sits quietly in our body,
& scourges our back in dark places.
But is darkness not home time?
Is water not for baptism?

I know this feeling; it lurks around us in creepy places,
then drain us to the last drop.
till water or something becomes the only corridor to follow.

                I know all these truths because I've once longed for water before,
                because I had many knotted lumps in my throat,
                because dark once meant home time,
                because pain knows every inch of my body,
                because I'm still there now.

Ókólí Stephen Nonso is a Nigerian writer whose poems have previously appeared in  Feral Journal, Ngiga Review, Praxis Magazine,  African writer, Adelaide Literary Magazine New York, Tuck magazine, and  elsewhere. His short story has appeared in Best of African literary magazine. He has contributed in both national and international pages and anthologies. A joint winner of the May 2020 Poets in Nigeria (PIN) 10 day poetry challenge, and also a first runner-up in the fresh voice foundation Poetry contest. He is currently working on his Poetry manuscript. You can say hello to him onTwitter @OkoliStephen7