Without the poetics...

If everything was plain...
no rhyme, no attention to time
and absolutely nothing had to be fine....

What would I say to you?
How would I say all i had 2 without the frustrating rhyme scheme that gets its beat from that of my heart?

In the silence of my mind, i pondered till this moment i got a thought...
Say it like it was with ur last breath.
Like it decided where u spent eternity.
Like it was ur last testament

You could call it the Heart's commandments, bt it's only what came out of a brainstorm.....i don't really mind...as long as it is out...

You do the following things...
Make every sunrise feel DIVINE...First thought every morning
Your words on replay give me new ENERGY...
JOY unspeakable is His gift to me....u r juat one of the sources of this,
My teacher, my friend, the one I should have let feel the pain I thought I felt back then....the reason why tonight I picked up a pen...

Je t'aime....Vraiment
*

The Chance to breathe 1...

 He continued the informative though now irrelevant discussion about Lai and the facts of his case, knowing full well that what I was really concerned with were the content of his epistle. Ten minutes, or what seemed to us 10 hours later, Femi made a detour and parked in a discreet corner in one of the byroads of Adebayo Doherty Road. His voice was shaky but his body was strong as he looked at me searchingly, questioning the motive of my silence. I had to break loose...now or never. This was my moment.  But as I  shaped my lips to utter the feelings of my heart my voice evades me, my sari clings to my body and I go limp. Thankfully, he sees this and blurts, “Show me a sign that you will stay...” As if instinctively, I take his hands and wring them round my neck, and plant a timid but moist kiss on his ear and the words begin to flow...yes...yes...If that is what you still want...More than life he added. We shared the most heartfelt, Electric-shock inducing kiss EVER-------by my standards at least...laughing almost out loud in the middle of it just because the tingle was more like a tickle...or a little bit of both...

The rest of the night went annoyingly on...at Lai’s there was a party to celebrate the legal win and we just mingled with the crowd like we owned it all; after all, Mr Oyeyemi was in fact a legal guru like no other and he was by all means worthy of it...and I was introduced as “a close friend...” so we owned it. His intro of me as a friend was a good thing I thought...who wants to be seen as a senior partner’s wishful partner after 29 hours? And as a mere student of the trade? Not this one. I just wanted to go home, shower and prepare for church and the drive home to the family tomorrow...it was a Saturday night...

....the story continues

...again...again...I want to see you a...phone distorts the train of thought in the awake lull that sunrise brings...But before I can swear at it, a “hello beautiful” is heard from the vacuum on the other side of the maze that ICT is and was; especially at that time to me. I knew like I was psychic who it was...his voice had almost become completely part of me. “Morning Femi...”I replied, trying earnestly, but without success to eradicate a yawn-Divas never yawn in the ears of an INTEREST...*wink*.

“So Sleepyhead, brunch together an option? Ummm...Breakfast at mine today....settled. I’ll pick you up in an hr then we’ll have breakfast, drop a few stuff off at the office, go and see a client and see a movie deal?” I couldn’t even muster enough strength to say yes....I muffled an “eeek” and hung up...Shower, Sari-style dress and Slippers...and La Senza black thin-strapped lace...no silk is safer...silk it is...wait wth am I choosing underwear?? What gives? It’s just a blasted day out!

I get to the door before he does...praying earnestly to seem as though it didn’t matter that he was here, now, with me, like an answer to the previous night’s sub-conscious prayer. Femi looked divine...nothing looked overtly like he made an effort though, and that stung me hard. But the fact that he was wearing the cologne of the scent I had on at the exact same time made me begin to think he may have combed his dresser for this little number...like dad always said, Thierry Mugler is a genius...but what was he trying to prove?  

                                                                             *****

At his house, he revealed that we were having Lasagne. It was midday...His flat was a street away from mine I realised. I had just moved into a new beach-flat-style estate in the umpteenth Lekki/Epe extension. It was hard to persuade dad to let me live on my own as a Law student-artiste-ghost writer. I had to get the cash first, set up moving and decor and agree to a bi-weekly trip to the mainland to get his blessing...

“Adanna, you look amazing and the aura you possess even in silence is breathtaking”, he said after we set the table in complete silence. I smiled, thanked him and proceeded to get juice glasses from a cupboard in the kitchen which he had shown me when he alighted with a lovely bottle of white wine probably 3 years old and of French extraction. Sauvignon Blanc...even though there was meant to be a red on the table at this time, the fact that the pear undertones in the wine and his forced but light-hearted banter filled the room and made my heart dance made that white bottle deserve its place in the company of red meat-filled pasta...

6 pm. Mr Balogun, Femi’s client was a youngish man of thirty-nine, Managing Director of his aged father’s conglomerate of companies, he said. His request to see him was urgent, he thought, because their last court case had just been won and the money for his time had already been paid so he was not to see him so soon. While this information was being divulged, he also placed a note in my lap. I opened it with a sense of uncertainty and maybe a tad of apprehension.

     I have been looking for a way to say this all day. I think I need to see a doctor.

    Why?

     You have captured my mind; so much so that to everything else I seem to have become blind.

   You have brightened my life this last 23 hours...please tell me you would brighten it for longer...

    Be mine...

To see another day...*

    “This was the beautiful work of art I received from “matan yamiri” “, my mother said. Dana as in Adanna. That is what I shall be known as from this point forth. I like to call myself Yve; as in Yvonne. Mum is Hausa; Hawau. Hence I call myself Yve. I feel like she birthed another beginning.

       The way they flattered my silhouette: clung to the waist I had gotten used to accepting that I lacked. The click they made as I twirled in front of my mirror. The “Jigida“beads had transported me to a world which I had been running away from all my life- Womanhood. Glancing at the mirror, I beheld the splendour of who I was-Igbo by birth, Hausa by blood and tongue, individual by choice. Yve.  Just then, did the realization of why I was being adorned flood my mind. I was to be carted off to the Essen Household. Married to them.  Everyone but me was of the idea that I had taken each breath just to see this day; but as I sat to get the damask scarf tied on my head, I knew I was making a mistake.

Dad walked into my room clutching a blue-bowed Shoebox. Blue Ferragamo flats. Très chic and comfy, with a matching teardrop purse.  I smiled sweetly as I gratefully let him play  Prince Charming and slip the shoes on my feet...”Your feet Dana.....” dad uttered ,interjecting my undefined , pure,  yet-to-be-dissected  thoughts “ they make me proud I stayed with you...”. One was shorter...but as dad held them in his hands, while he had one of the shoe pads slipped into one of my beauties, to aid balance; he revealed , “They show me just how far you have come...Perfection...Just by being Yourself....”...I saw that all that I needed, I already had...that was of course until I heard those heart-shattering words; Charles will be so happy that a woman of your strength of character would be his forever....GET ME OUT OF THIS FIX! That was all i wished i could utter at that pointy if only I could find my voice.

I finally heard a voice ask to be alone. As I watched everyone heed that plea with unease, I turn on the pod-deck and blast the speakers...pick up my phone and text NKEM.......

There is so much you need to know...Soon it will all be made clear.

A tale of two loves...Come with me into the tide burdened island of my past...for only then would the future be permitted to unfold...

In the prime of my youth...19...the age at which every mother lets it ring into your ears that they first beheld their spouse a year before, this girl was all but expecting to find love in the most unlikely of places to find young love; what’s more? I wasn’t in search of it. A gathering of sorts...Diverse people bound together by a thirst for contacts... a chambers’ Christmas dinner...I had been invited by a friend but he caught an undisclosed illness the week before and rather than join other friends and foes in discerning his ailment, I left a get well soon card at his hospital bedside and told him I would still honour his invite, for his sake as well as mine and told him I would still honour his invite, for his sake as well as mine. He smiled and said he was of the idea that I would be glad I  went.

7pm. I fix the necklace clasp; or so I thought and I prance to the door at the sound of the doorbell...Silence. When I begin to hear voices he is properly clasping the ornament round my neck. Femi Adeyemi. I smile and sheepishly mutter  “Dana...Adanna Membu. The rest of the night went by with such serenity that in my mind, it was a myriad of laughter...clicks of champagne flutes were as music to my ears which made me a tad glad (though unaltruistically,i must admit) that that Akintoye was indisposed. Like a princess scared to get her foot dashed, i asked to be driven home at 11.He gladly obliged and and we left the venue cards crammed caricaturishly in pocket,purse and exit bucket(the mini bin left there by the function planners knowing that hardly every contact we got at these functions were ones we wanted to keep....

As he openned the door of the passenger seat of the 3 Series...he tripped on the step and i instinctively caught him...he leaned in and kissed me...I only knew this cos he did it again...i let out a cautious smile...we drove home in silence...he led me home...kissed my hand and left. a minuite later...ping...add request...femi...accept...ping...i want to see you again...

The first Memoir

The first of them all... the hardest? no1 knows...but if u hold back it actually shows.
...With our chagrins he makes a coat...
And he gets helped by the the Stiffling effects of time....we wither like roses as we bask in our own reproach...like we all are meant to eat a cochroach... with all the "Yama-yama" involved in allowing for the mulching of the fruits of pain..."time is a bastard" is what u'd hear the ones who have tasted the bitter fruit of non-accomplishment in its wealth and splendour like an aged whiskey say...
But on the flip-side its joy, laughter, the sound of a full song, love, Strength, resilliance, rediscovery....


It's Life...
Take the first Step....
Like I have...

Welcome to my world...

Much love...

da_sweetthin