My Childhood Friend’s Mom as a Land of Memories │ Tukur Ridwan │ Poetry


my childhood friend’s mom as a land of memories

when, like the wings of time, all
are flying away from our hands,
our memories hop and try
to catch them from departing
abruptly, like how my friend’s mother
left us on a sweet dinner
without telling us in the morning
that our hearts would darken along
with the coming night. ah…

our pictures are the only pendants
left to hang on the wall’s chest—
that is just how we stay home
in our heads— our legs have been
to places the mouth cannot tell…

we are soldiers marching in turns,
going and coming, while staying
to bid each other welcome and
farewell are the barracks and bases
of our stays and times away…

like agents of change, we are winds
of words that came and saw
and conquered— the cornerstones
that we are now, none is left unturned.

of the times we have met and parted,
this memory still strings us all
sweet as the mother of my friend
whose table we dine on when hungry.

like a country mapping as no man’s land,
my friend’s mother belonged to everyone,
much as our tributes and childhood tales.

Tukur writes from a coastal axis in Lagos Island. His poems have been published in Rising Phoenix, Libretto Magazine, Art of Peace Anthology, Best New African Poets Anthology 2019, Ngiga Review, The Quills and elsewhere. He won the Brigitte Piorson Monthly Poetry Contest (March 2018) and shortlisted in few others.
He explores existence: memories, identity, creation, lust, ruins and loss.

Share Your Thoughts