The Sore Wife

This is poetry unfiltered (well, not 100%).

I am using one of the forms of art I love the most to express my thought on the real culprit behind most of the cultural and internal battles we fight. I don’t think the media is as terrible The Society. Hang on, wait till the end before you make up your mind about this series, if you could wait for Game of Thrones, you should be able to wait for this too — yes it’s as great, if not even greater!

This goes back to most of my childhood and my teenage years. The Society I grew up in is still here — the same one which after all the civilization and digitization, has still kept some intricate terrible worldviews, and has refused to love, teach, approve and accept truly.

Let me get to the point: I am a young Nigerian woman who has superhuman skin, so the Earth might not be the perfect environment for my skin but I wouldn’t know — it’s been difficult surviving on other planets and so, I am trying to fit in here till science comes to the rescue. As a result of my superhuman skin and this imperfect planet, I have breakouts. Most of the dark spots on my skin aren’t from injuries or accidents, a lot are from different insects (some of which science hasn’t been able to identify or name), change of water (bath or consumable), change of soap (I have tried Premiere Cool and Imperial Leather), change of cream (even if it’s just one rub), a little wear and tear caused by probing of bruises and sometimes, weirdly, just stuff I can’t quite put my finger on.

Growing up, I’ll overhear moms and aunties, married women and single women talking to my mom about how she’s allowing this skin issue to ruin my chances of a successful future which seems to be hinged on a successful marriage; as married men like their women fresh, flawless and soft. They would give her bunch of options we should try — herbal, soap, creams, ointments and mixtures. On some days I smelt like baby poop; if you have kids or are a nanny, you know how bad baby poop stings, that was me some years ago.

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The Sore Wife is the first of the series and here it goes:

At first we thought we found a mole,
Something had given our plan away.
We had a goal in mind to close the hole;
In the heart of these mortal men each day,
With our soft curves and swaying hips,
But mostly with our flawless skin like that of babies.
If our flesh couldn’t keep them, we would still keep dips
On where their love truly lies – we’d forever be their Lady.

We soon realized it wasn’t a mole,
It was the imperfection ingrained in our tactics,
It wasn’t our job to make them whole,
And it wasn’t theirs to think of us as their picks,
There was nothing wrong with their cravings,
They had only one job – make room for the crumblings,
There are constant factors – muscles will drop!
Wrinkles, layers and grey hair will form.
We knew we had to bring more than the curves to the table.

This was the beginning of a new chapter.
A hybrid of housewives who had assets to offer -
After the fall, drop, gains, colours and layers.
Those who needed to find an anchor – some sort of center
To hold on to during the changes and the trials,
Sore women who were soaring up in the sky;
Their wings intact and still, enjoying the bearings of the wind
Sore wives happily married to imperfect husbands.