Porcelain

A Poem

By Tobi Nimisire Emitomo

I am thorns and petals too alike they are one
a breed with nectars beasts and butterflies suck
I am all that was when what I wanted to
be is anything but what I have become
— am becoming

a porcelain with a temper, falls and shatters
into clay that couldn’t hold roots
so it was made to home a soil tender to seedlings
an ocean tired of running
but can’t get a grip on its turbulence

I am the fading image my mother’s eyes blur out
when she visualizes god running to her rescue
the headlamp on the temple of my father’s spirit
on nights he comes visiting.