“Make it big “
These very words I loathed
My dawn till dusk recital
My anthem, my allegiance
To escape the grit and prevent inheritance of writ I was told
My mother’s desperate cry so I won’t become her twin in poverty
Saved her last mite so my lips can be learned
Scraped foods from tables like dogs so my stomach doesn’t grumble
She fortified my mind with the horrors and burdens she has to bear as a result of financial poverty and drew my ears into shape to resolve to make life better for both of us.
Fed to me like honey to bees
Rehearsed to me as soon as I had ears,
Spoken to me to repeat as soon as I had mouth to
My mother whispered again ‘Make it big’ as she cushioned and oiled my hair with pure unsoiled groundnut oil leaving me sparkling like her golden trophy child.
Yet, She only sees her imagined child.
The one with all As and perks.
Aiming to become the professor, the lawyer, the doctor, the engineer that she so longs for
What of my peculiarity? My abilities? My dreams? My ambitions? My own goals? My preferences?
I’m denied the right to choose my life
Toothless!
Forced to bend to her will
Coerced to be an ideal son
Wielded to tread the path of the ‘star’ son
Who then will make my path?
Which mark will I leave in this bereft generation?
Tears well up in my bronze eyes every day but who am I to cry
The supposed smartest son doesn’t cry
I hide behind this veil; this façade
HOW CAN I SCREAM WHEN MY WORDS ARE SILENCED?
And when will these shackles be broken when my home is prison?
My dainty tastes in music, writing, and art; my saintly ambition of becoming a missionary, an educator, an advocate, a musician perhaps, are all considered folly buried beneath this cloak of another son.
The one who fulfills all her unfinished ambitions
The one she wants to show off to her friends that he fits into the stereotype regardless of if his spirit is broken like my predecessors
One which she can fly around with and point to the whole world signifying that’s my son yet he’s robbed of virtue and passion
My dreams are winged ‘neath this syndrome ‘make it big’
I want to be big in my sphere
“We are not all made to be tall trees, some are made to be shrubs.”
Each fulfilling our unique roles patterned to our individuality.
Yes, make it big but don’t lose your passion, your thirst, your identity💜🌟🦋
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