THEY ASKED WHY MY POEMS ALWAYS SCENT OF MY LATE BROTHER —Adamu Yahuza Abdullahi

THEY ASKED WHY MY POEMS ALWAYS SCENT OF MY  LATE BROTHER

Adamu Yahuza Abdullahi

 

I don't know of other poets, but I 

find it difficult to nurse grief & not 

feed it food. I write every poem as

if to say, a means for the loamy Earth

to open up & soak away the shackles

hung on my neck. You start a poem and

see your being shrouded in your shadow. 

They asked why my poems scent of my

brother, I do not know how more to

write poems here, in this space, where

even the sun is been eaten up by abyss.

You borrowed yourself some strength

to your waned hands to write a poem,

somewhere at the centroid you saw

your belly eating itself up. I have carried

enough light, enough laughter that are 

not mine. There is a country piling into

darkness &  then there is me— a boy with

eyes filled up with enough images to

form a photoframe; images he only

see in dreams. I pour my eyes into

a cup of coffee every morning, a new

way to conform with grief. I breathe

light to see right. You shouldn't hear

this from me; I still see the full image

of my late brother whenever I ask the

mirror how I look.

Bio:

Adamu Yahuza Abdullahi is a budding poet from Kwara state, Nigeria. He is currently running his degree program at Usmanu Danfodiyo University, Sokoto, Nigeria. He works as a campus journalist at PEN PRESS, UDUS. He is a year three student of botany. He is obsessed with writers and what they write. When he underthinks, he reads; and when he overthinks, he writes. He is so much passionate about his ancestral hometown, Kemanji, where he writes. He bagged NAKS ( a student Union body) award of the best poet of the year, 2021. His works have appeared or are forthcoming in the Kalahari review, synchronized chaos, Arts Lounge and Borgu book club. He can be reached at adamuyahutha@gmail.com. and he tweets at AdamuYahuzaabd2.