#88. FLOETRY by JulietKego: The Home-Maker

The Home-Maker

We found each other
In the fields of freedom
And became partners in love…

Me, with dreams to heal the world
You, daring to dominate her
And we built a home and created a haven
Till I forgot to dream, and forgot my path
And looked to you for direction
But you were not here
You were out there,
chasing wild dreams
in the fields of freedom
And I found myself lost in life,
slowly dying, disappearing…

I lost you swimming seven seas of sorrow,
(Unraveling the gestalt of layers of sorrows:
anger, sadness, fear, hurt, guilt,
shame, pain, blame),
there, where rippling streams
of stagnant dreams,
(like quick sands)
suffocate and drown,
already wounded,
weighed-down hearts….

I lost you in the soundless,
wandering winds of wasted whispers,
where words that should be said out loud,
Become lumps that are buried
and swallowed whole.
Words like:
‘I love you; I need you; I want you;
I miss you; I hear you;I am sorry;
I see you tired and I appreciate you.
YOU, my love, as you are now.’
Words now engulfed
by the gulf of our muted conversations…

I lost you in the eyes that pretended to look,
refusing to see the signs of surrender.
The eyes that silently cry out:
(‘I am tired’, ‘I give up’, ‘I give in’,
‘Let me BE or let me go!’)

I lost you,
reaching for the hands that you let go;
missing your daily hugs
over my now rounded frame
The picture of those arms,
gone too soon, gone too fast,
leaving me here, all alone,
pregnant with our child.
I lost you and in my loss,
I found myself;
I re-remembered my dreams of me, for me
The me that I’d forgotten was ever thereT
he me I’d killed, slowly and gently,
as I made room for you;
a home for us….

I lost you to the 9-5 fields of freedom
where workers find meaning but
where I never quite found myself
couldn’t you see, my love
that the cubicles choked my dreams?

I stopped dreaming to let you be and do
But you? You refused to break the rules
Or shift the roles
and allow the air flow,
enough for two….

I lost you as I took in and let out the air within,
making room for blooming me,
learning how to grow wings and fly
finding a new home in the wilderness,
a safe nest for me….

And when you do find you,
my love,
Come, come, quickly and look for me
But know that I will not be here
(lost in laundry, cooking, cleaning,
gardening, babysitting, baking..),
watching, waiting, wasting away,
as I long for you.

No, I will not be here
I’ll be out there,
in my fields of freedom
Drinking in all of life,
dancing to my song.

(c) Juliet ‘Kego Ume-Onyido (All rights reserved).

11 thoughts on “#88. FLOETRY by JulietKego: The Home-Maker

  1. This is so beautiful….d story of so many women but only d strong can find strength in themselves and break loose…

    “No, I will not be here
    I’ll be out there in the fields of freedom
    Drinking in all of life, and dancing to my song
    Yes, in the Fields of Freedom;
    Losing You, Finding Me…”

    thanks for this piece and for encouraging women out there…….

    Like

    • Thanks a lot for your words Ify! The more each of us stands tall, the more those around us find their own strength. I’ll echo the eternal words of the phenomenal Maya Angelou: “Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.”

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  2. I really went with the flow. Well crafted. So real.

    Often the foundation is a mirage. For in the impulsive passion of youth, couples have opposing dreams- one to heal, one to dominate and if so be it- hurt the world. But then is love not meant to be passionate? Is passion not meant to be impulsive?

    Little wonder the well known muted conversation. Auto destructive silence. Exaggerated by natural longings, longings one has a right to – before God and man. Longing that is the very cement of the union. Longings once fully satiated, even prompted. Longings avowed to last forever…

    Yet one remains free. Freedom to be found in the silence of the truth. The truth to be found in the chasm between the dream and reality. For that chasm is not a void. It is naked. Stark naked, where all pretences are shed.

    In that truth, in itself a ray of the eternal Truth, one blossoms. One begins to live. To thrive. There, in that freedom found in the truth, one dances with the gods, and I dare say, with God.
    Jules, thanks so much for this floetry. I don’t know why it reminds me so much of Zainab’s ‘Still born’. Maybe because it so much of a woman. Daalu rinne!

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    • Thank you so much Chika…your insight and ability to expand the depth and breadth of the themes in the poems are truly remarkable. You get it! And that is such a precious gift to me…it is often a beautiful and magical thing when a poem finds her reader and they’re both in prefect flow. Keep on reading (and commenting), your feedback is much appreciated. -Jules
      P.S: I love, love your analogy to Zaynab Alkali’s Still Born 🙂

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  3. In “The Home-Maker”, Juliet Kego beautifully captures and renders the dilemma and rupture that inevitably is triggered by drifting and drifted relationships, and unfulfilling coupling. Poignantly and evocatively, our writer poet gently weaves words and verses in seamless tapestry, sweeping, lyrical and wistful prose. The words breathlessly caress, cascade and flawlessly flow in endless cadence, infusing fresh awareness and urgency to rediscovering lost self and the freedom once shared with a significant other – in that plaintive cry and voice,
    “……and allow the airflow, enough for two.
    I lost you as I took in the air within,
    making room for little, blooming me….”
    Ultimately, in our shared awareness, we journey along to a place called Hope, regaining dreams, and finding triumph where helplessness and hopelessness once held sway –
    “Drinking in all of life, and dancing to my song
    Yes, in the Fields of Freedom;
    Losing You, Finding Me…”.

    ~ NnaEmeka

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    • Nna Emeka, words cannot capture my gratitude for your constant encouragement and your effort/time in giving me creative, constructive feedback (often very detailed and nuanced)….giving me newer insights and new gifts of words. I’ll keep borrowing your words with permission 🙂 Dalu ezigbo nwannem!

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  4. This is the best poem of yours I have read. I love the rhythm, the sound play, the alliteration…the way words fall on each other weaving into something longer. It makes total sense and is so relevant. I haven’t done this before but dear big sis, for this one, I throw you my biggest hug.

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