Can I go back to being a child? One who had a house full of family she loved but pretended she couldn’t tolerate? Can I smell one more meal being cooked? Hear my name called down the hallway because someone needs me for something? Can this empty house be filled once again, so I can hang on to every flicker a little longer.
.
“Grandma,
Where is the stick to pluck guavas from the guava tree?
And the longer stick for the neighbour’s nearby orange tree?
Where is the bottle of kunu only you make so well?
.
Mom,
Where are your warm, embracing hands?
Where is the notebook where you wrote many letters to God?
Where is your constant supply of towels, bedsheets, and everything everyone needs?
.
Dad,
Where is your laughter and your light?
Where is the dog, all light brown and playful?
Where is the bicycle it took you so long to get me for my birthday?
.
Aunties & Uncles,
Where are your capable hands of care?
Where are your hot, spicy pots of soup?
Your ever-busy needles and threads fixing every robe?
.
Sisters,
Where is the room full of banter and play?
Where is the smell of your freshly bathed skin?
Where are the books, the movies, the borrowed dresses?
.
Grandma, you are on your favorite living room chair, I hope
And mom, you’re just outside getting some evening air
Dad, you must be bathing the dog with that sweet-smelling soap
Aunties and Uncles, you’ve only hidden away to get some rest
.
Sisters,
We have okro stalks to cut together
And a boy I need to tell you all about
Hurry up to the ludo board
Let’s play!
Let’s play
Let’s play.”
.
My voice echoes
The house is empty
