The Storm Rages Outside My Home
            by ANOINTING OBUH

I sit in the living room cornrowing my hair.

My fingers smoothing over the new
mountains,

thunder roars over my ears & I am
not the only

creator pondering why it is
boisterous.

The little one frolics with a
pen & paper

& I watch as he craft vacuums on the
white sheet.

All the stalks outside
are bowing,

there is something
unpretentious in

the sound of a
livid world.

The cold sieves through
the curtains

& I remember myself whimpering in
bed yesterday;

my fingers hovering over a message box saying
psychologist,

ten silent cherubim,
unable to land.

The little one pads over to me & holds out the pen
and paper.

Soon the storm would be over, I would go
out to breathe

& see dead woods modeling
as dead animals

in the countless entrenched gullies
around my home.

The little one requests I
draw a boat,

it wakes my longing for fire in the
hearth & escape.

The rain sounds like pin pricks
on the roof.

I draw water under my boat in
short spirals,

I put fishes in my water, flare their fins into feathers so
they can fly.

The little one gapes at
my creation

with his soft head tucked
into my chin.
The rain has ceased, the outsides
summon me now,

my fishes swim in the
opposite direction,

thunder growls in the parching sky; a
ghastly threat.

The little one pats my face
twice & asks

Mommy, why is your
boat sinking?

---

Anointing Obuh is an emerging writer from Africa. Her works have been featured in isacoustic, great weather for media, Rattle, The cabinet of Heed, Honey and lime lit, Barren magazine and elsewhere. She studies English and literature at the University of Benin, Nigeria. She enjoys music and over achieving. She says hello.