A House Wife Tears Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

I don't want to walk in this lane again
I don't want to be bless with no tale
I cover my soul with hatred but my body blossom
Forty three years i am, childless.
Yesterday, i was forty and a child promised
Yet i have no one to send an errand

My pillow watches my tears swing on it
A house wife tears not so good
Mother, i will be coming home, i've failed
Brother, arrange my unlock hut for me
Sister, search for my lost Bangoes and Jewelries
Father, prepare my dowry to be return to them
I have failed in marriage yet blessed at home

Words unsaid hurt more than an injury
Forty three years of barrenness and pains
Sorrow of a house wife seems too painful
My womb had developed the mind of their own
My utensils question my authority
The doors in my home laugh at me in a scornful way
I see the windows always mocking my moves
I want to move but moving becomes impossible

Sorrow of a house wife in forty three years
I hate to be a woman if this what they face
Tell mother i will be coming home he wants me no more
He had defiled our matrimonial bed and the bed want me no more
He is now a monster playing outside with a mistress
My Chi has forsaken me in dawn after dusk
I will be coming mother perhaps your arms will
Cuddle me and make me better like before.
Tell the world i've failed as a woman
But tell not my house hold for they already known