Last Monday, grandma told me in between her gasping for breath that I smell bad
My armpit reeks of lost melody
My general odour is burnt incense laid on a corpse
She bathed me in lemon and lily perfume when I was young so I smiled in hues of blue
To hide the pain her tongue has lashed on my heart
Yesterday, Naafisatu my bride to be, she who nurtures my desires in sensuous bliss
came and knelt infront of grandma, a sign of humility, her humble greetings
Grandma smirked, chuckled disgustingly and said
You smell of rotten vegetables
Your breath, decayed onions
Inside your thighs reeks of foul carcass
she tried plunging her hands inside her
but Naafisatu retreated
Your eyes are full of barreness
Your firm breast, spoilt milk
Naafisa was trembling in tears with her head bowed
I stood there naked not knowing how to defend her
In fury, she sped off
leaving traces of her footsteps tapping wildly on the door post, I went after her but she dismissed me like a fly, she cried for space so I gave her one filled with plump Roses painted with my love
Today
I saw Naafisa suspended in the mild air
her curvy body swaying sadly in the mist wind
with a sheet of paper stuck in between her moist toes
She took away her life
Because of Grandma's insensitive remarks
Now the whole village brands her a witch
But she's not
It's her aging
If only Naafisa knew
If only I can make the village understand
Immediately, I got home
Grandma asked 'Where's your beautiful bride'
My mind paralysed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love this work. Keep writing. More greasetoyourelbow.