Tell the talismans to return to where they came from.
I am not capable of changing.
It is not within my capacity.
These red threads have come too late.
They hold nothing but deception.
What they touch is only the cooled pottery
of a thousand forgotten furnaces.
Perhaps I was born too early.
Perhaps too late.
Perhaps a misplaced star that would never shoot.
Whatever the reason,
Do not sprinkle saffron water on my doorstep.
Do you not hear that rivers have argued with this rock for centuries?
Ask them who surrendered.
My people green the fields and empty the trees,
They flood the valleys with birds.
Who will tell the fools that miracles only happen at appointed times?
Even the seasons know better
Which is why they take their turns.
Tell the talismans their magic has arrived at the wrong address.
They never believe me
So I point them to my mother
Whose prayers have grown calluses,
Her little hope wears itself into a tired habit.
I see her love for me every dawn return home with a limp at dusk.
Weary eyes waiting for change but these things do not happen.
Not like they want it to.
Father says I’m doom,
A title for things he does not understand.
The smoke of defiance has climbed my
lungs, I’ll be fired before he finds me.
Chant your verses and pray to your Lord.
He is mine too.
I will prophesy my entourage of glory
And it is nothing close to what you desire.
When will you learn as I have learned
that not everything wishes to become
something else.
Some doors are not locked,
they are walls pretending to be entrances.
Some cages have no bars,
only names we answer to.
Do not bury charms beneath my shadow
Or fold my name into leather.
There’s no grip for your amulets,
knives already thread this wrist.
So tell the talismans
to return to where they came from.
I am no miracle awaiting permission.
If I ever change,
it will not be because a red charm persuaded the heavens,
but because,
one impossible morning,
I mistook my own heartbeat
for a stranger knocking,
and,
for the first time,
opened.
About the author:
Salmah Suleiman Usman is a Nigerian poet, writer and storyteller. Her work explores memory, emotions, philosophy, identity, humanity, womanhood, social dynamics and the politics of everyday life, with a particular interest in the secret lives of objects and spaces, and how they become repositories of memory and vessels for human experience. Her work appears across digital platforms and social media. She is a member of the inaugural LIPFest Craft & Development Lab cohort and an alumna of the Pioneer Flame Tree Writers’ Initiative. She is a recipient of the Awele’s Heart Peace Prize for Short Story and the author of 30 Days, 30 Virtues, a digital series exploring faith and everyday life.
Photo by Solen Feyissa on Unsplash