I stand looking through the glass
Staring at the father bouncing his baby girl on his laps
She giggles in glee as he places her on his knee
Her chubby fingers touch his face as her eyes look in wonder at his
He draws near to her face and kisses her head
She squeals in delight and holds his fingers tight
My knuckles go white and my heart squeezes dry
I feel a tickle behind my eyelids as he now tickles her belly
Bile rises in my throat cutting my breaths short
The vision disappears amidst hot raindrops
The girl is me and yet she is not
She has no clue of the world and its many problems
Relationships and responsibilities are but spellings to memorize
Societal standards and future dreams are but grown-ups discussions
The cares of the world and its enticing distractions are boring unlike toys
I stand looking through the glass
He looks up and our eyes connect
Recognition burns in his eyes and with them beckons me to come
With uncontrollable streams running down my cheeks I stand my ground
Willing myself to move but I  can’t…not yet
Not until I become like a child I once was and fully give up the world
I was taught to give all or nothing at all
So I stand looking through the glass for the last time
into a home that is mine and yet is not
Staring at the father bouncing his baby girl on his laps
And all at once I wished I could give up all. It should have been me.

 

 

 

 

Writer’s Bio 

My name is Ibekwe Uzoma, and I love to think. My mind is my safe haven. Growing up, I found it difficult to fully express myself verbally, so poetry became my voice. It still is. I write stories and I also do spoken word. Personally, I believe there is no limit to my channels of expression, as long as it is writing, I can do it.