I wondered why my big breasts filled with milk wouldn’t stop dripping. It was You my child, you wouldn’t stop crying and you wouldn’t be suited. Would I then take what is for the child and squirt it to the earth for comfort or do I bare the discomfort and call it the sacrifices of Love?
My beautiful Baby, Nigeria- It’s 55 years today since you were let out of my womb, I still wonder when you will grow. Grow into the man you were born to be. I’m sorry I had to leave you but I really had no choice. Now I dine with bastards, I pray with fools and break bread with the ignorant. They’re not like you my child, Rich in wisdom, Opulent and robust, ah! I miss your round cheeks, your greasy finger after every meal and how I’ve had to yell your name through the Seven streets and through the Seven street oil lamps.
My child When will you grow ??
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