It's not the first time.

It's not the first time.

It's not the second.

And everytime she would cry till her eyes lack moisture.

Drowning in her tears and getting lost in her deafening yawls.

Just now, he, the man who is supposed to be a husband and a lover, hammered her again.

The man whose mother is so peaceful and has no anger in her.

Whose father built a gallery of love for his mother in his heart and called her Wine.

He has no excuse to turn out a cockatrice that kills at a glance, yet.

He doesn't grasp how much damage anger does than the things that cause it.

When he loses his temper he never remembers the words of his father;

"There's nothing manly about rage. It is kindness and courtesy, provided they are sincere, that defines a human being"

Now, she's going away, pandering to woeful grief.

Striving to carry her bags, weeping; for she is exerting much energy in tearing that her strength fails her.

"Hewuu! Chineke'm oh! Nne'm bilie n'onwu bia naputa'm oh"
(Hey! My God oh! Mama please come back to life and save me oh)

- Unfortunately, the dead has nothing to do with a living room. -

He is as hemlock to her soul; poison.

And, she is undone.

From beneath her right sleeve, blood drew it's way down to her phalanx clenched on the bag.

It looks like it's coming from her neck.

The corner of her eyes are swollen and her lips can't stick anymore because they've lost their compatibility to heaviness.

Her face is disassembled.

The little children, a son and a daughter, who are yet to return from school would come back to a home without a mother.

Oh how nature has prescribed for those royal littlenesses the pain of a broken home.

Minutes later, the man comes, walking like a dove, as though the fangs that laced his eyes had fallen off.

Humble and sorry, he stands at the cross junction, but she's gone and I won't tell him what direction.

He may not know why he does what he does, yet he does it and would still do it.

But I pray she returns for the sake of those kids.

And I hope when karma catches up with him in this life or his next, he'll understand he is guilty as charged

As she is guilty but can't remember because like Plato said, at birth we all drank of the cup of oblivion erasing the memories of our previous existences.

This is so that all souls would embrace charity and love one another through the extremities of all differences, even so, an enemy from the past.

For we are brothers and sisters in Logos.

No man should allow himself be an instrument of karma.

She's a "beach".

She'll drown you for using you to drown someone else.

For whatever you sow, you shall surely reap, now or later!

It is a Divine law.

So if you are ever caught betwixt being right and being kind,

Against all odds, please be kind, ye sons of men.

•

I am her mother and  I speak to you from the world of invisibility.

Goodwill to you.

#Blessed

Photo credit: Eze Jubilee (#Ejèphotography)