Olukemi Lawani | Klo2
I reach down into the fluid void inside; reach down, down beneath the noise of everyday and the masks of all I may, nay, must be for a piece, of me. I grasp at it, watch it almost slide out of reach and grab again desperately, snatch the corner for a sticky fragment, tug on it to draw the sticky tail out like a line, fascinated by its formed lack of form.
I am all your eyes and all your ears and all your hearts have seen and heard and felt. I am all your thoughts. Why does it amaze you, amuse you so that I have walked your paths and laughed your laughs and stayed the same: my honey inside my chocolate against your milk? My pain beside your prejudice inside your pride. I reach down into the something that lures me into the sweet nothingness you offer.
Why is it hard for you to see I am the one you want? My children, blood and sweat … my tears, my laughter? You have stolen it, and borrowed it, and received. And you have risen- but I remain: the blood that flows in your children’s veins, the print on your fingers, the oil on the wheels of your progress, the heart in your head, the river that returns to me.