The gold chain sitting On her outstretched palm Is a good place to start. Her father—your grandfather—kept It in a secret drawer for a day Like this—a day You would have a piece of him Around your neck. Your grandfather, in your mother’s words, Refused to let his daughter Feed her present with the future. And on the night that you were born, He drove all the way from Benin to Abuja. That night, silence became your mother. All your life, you’ve seen this woman Only through your father’s eye. Here, a story you longed for is telling Itself. Should you be grateful? Should you think: What does it matter that the first time Your mother kisses you on the cheek She is standing on her toes? Source link