~My grin laurels…~

                                                                   By: Ugwuoju Henry AnthonyC


         The star-filled October month has taught me to think that even at my grey days, and as my ghost was just behind my roof, I could not escape the manacles of my shadow; I could not just hide to say; I loved Awele beyond a glance. I could and will not forget that ill fate that dug up the skulls of my pensive past. I would not fail to tell the tale of my days before June 3rd. Those days she…
            These Titanic dreams of mine began the first time I saw her standing behind the all known “bank PHB” and she looked more like a bird first caught on the day it’s feathers learnt to fly. Tears raced quickly down my eyes and I knew we may never meet again, but the yawning palms of faith proved me wrong. I thought I may never see her, to sing to her ears this song in my throat, to become her prince and as well, her prisoner. When she finally smiled at my greeting cheeks, I knew the essay was all written; as she took in my complementary card and told me her name- Awele Oru Igame.
            Though my ghost approaches from afar, I can never forget the en with which the gods carved our pains on our tears and dug the grave to the end of the forever, we both dreamt of. The jinx of time, haunted and tour our dreams; and the fishes were fed with our hopes. On that day when I cried on her corpse, the June 3rd, the day and month it all happened.
           After I had wooed Awele, we both promised in our own streams of sincerity to bottle our love as far as fate can bear. I lived with my parents in Maidugri while Awele, was housed by her Aunt, two blocks ahead. It was quite a little difference that we could sail our love with the birds, and the wind, at the dawn and the dusk, of each new-grey day.
Those days when I returned from school, and on vacation, Awele would sneak up to my window, and wake up my waiting nerves and we would hold hands, listening to silence, gazing into the full moon, hoping and praying that the racing wheels of time would not put a bridge to out sinister love play. Each time we were together, I looked into her eyes and I could hear her say, “never stop loving me omoni fakunle”, and when my record was playing, celindion’s “power of love”, would rent the air and fill most of the air we breathed.
           This sweat sail of lustful nights continued knocking on our heads; that each time I prepared to get back to school, it was the beginning of another routine for love condolence. Her tears beside my packed luggage and my waiting eyes for a taxi, never failed to pierce through my heart and leave me with crying eyes on my bunk as I forced sleep upon my eyes.
            In school, I always had sleepless nights, after days of her absence, I always thought and dreamt of a little time behind the scene with Awele and as I held Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”, I read through the lines of a painful heart “farewell, God knows we shall meet again, I had a faint and cold fear that thrills through my veins, that almost freezes up the heat of life. I’ll call them back again to comfort me”. I paused for a moment, to wipe my tears.
            I always asked myself while asleep, how is she now? What could the chilly breeze of life do to protect her? Did she ever think of me? These were the million dollar question I asked my self and I wished Awele could come, come quick and with her crescent pair of lips, profane an answer to these questions.
           On this Monday morning, I woke up with a grin look and seemed to have forgotten my pensive mood. I went about my day’s work with so much joy and assurance that my love built around Awele’s heart, was built as a castle. I went to class, ate my lunch and was dancing my way to my hostel when Lawumi called me aside and handed me over a brown envelope; from the looks on his face, he came from home.
With so much urge and enthusiasm, I tore through the walls of the letter as I finally got to the last main substance of the message, that left me with memories of uncertainty, and now my heart missed a bit if not two as my eyes caught the salutation “Dear Omomi”.
Dear Omomi,
             Words would not be enough to convey my deep feelings and missing of your presence. As each night of every day, I flood my bed with streams of tears, hoping and wishing I would see you, even for a split second. I have no wings to sail with the winds and come to you. I would lock our faces with a resounding kiss greased with tears. Fears grips my throat as I watch the moon each night alone with the warmth that always came from your holding hands, but just to let you know that my heart hates to miss you!
                                                                          Your love
                                                                         Awele Oru
           Just at the end point of this last word, my eyes began to rain with tears and flood down my cheek and into my mouth, and I felt the salty taste as they dripped into my mouth. My thoughts once more fled from reasoning and were wandering in the lines of each sentence that bore her pains. My feet got manacled to the floor and I found it difficult if not impossible to lift my feet. I had buried my crying face on my soft pillow.                                                                                                                             

        Later that night, I wrote to her but later changed my mind and decided to sneak out of the compound to see my angel, my captor and the queen of my palace. I woke up the next day, had myself properly dressed and tip toed my way out of the school gate when I was out, I raced quickly with the heat of uncertainties, only to be brought to a halt by a dark green Peugeot sports car, and all I was allowed to say was “Good morning father”.
              I sat like a hen under the rain on the couch of the rector’s secretary’s office, waiting for my “death sentence”. And just at 12;20 pm, I jolted back to reality as the steps coming towards the secretary’s office were clear to be his. He handed me the envelope and waved me to the door. That marked the beginning to my pensive lines. I was shocked beyond making, I did not know if I were to cry or to scream within me, I just knew it, I just saw it, I just perceived that the moment I got myself entangled to the cravings of my emotions, that I was bound to the fate it carved for me, but no one told me, no one made me to know that “this was how it would end”. I’ve got to go, till I see this chance again.
As I packed my belongings, though masked with tears, I dug up the letter I had written to Awele;
        Awele,
                 It is you who are the reason why I sit up late glued to my thoughts, I know you may never see the poor passion and pains that I now convert to ink and pour on this white island, but Awele, I sit up late every night, praying the retiring clouds to carry my tears to your door. Your name Awele is written in my tears, the tears of my slippery dreams. Hear this song that comes from a throat filled with dust and read through the lines of a poor poet pouring deep passions on these lines, his only laurels are the words on his tongue and the pen in his palm. As long as you live, I deserve life.
                                                                   Omomi.

“Awele, I would never come to see you again”, were all my eyes cried as I held her lifeless body in my two hands, with her open eyes, which gave a picture of innocence and the ugly scene that wrote the last of her name.
I bit my tongue and pat my chest for many reasons, I lost “the call” and lost “the love”. Fear gripped my throat as I gazed upon my ghost. I would have let you know, even before now!
"i never told you i was only the remains of the me i never thought i knew, I never lied to you about the consequence of such stains on my identity. I never would have told you that your eyes that stares at me this moment, sees only but a hammered heart. If only I knew, I could have seen it coming, the dusk of the forever that fate never wanted to last, the beginning of the end to this scene”.
I just do regret, I regret not knowing, that those who live in glass houses, do not throw stones. I just thought I was right, but the past has told on me. I know you go to write right that fate we both dreamt of together, on that graceful right, that eve to Christmas, the day you were born-your birthday. Farewell my queen of the screne!!!