Name: Bettie Atemo
Pen name: Artmore
Email: atemob21@gmail.com
Facebook page: BAM CARES Artmore
When I finished sobbing profusely
She tapped on me and said
Enough daughter, we can talk…
I probably had nothing to say
I was battling enough of my pain
I had already touched malice by hand
I could feel its roughness
Its creepy eerie invasion
Froze my own fortitude
I had no stamina to talk
Neither did I have the words to say.
Poverty had made an infringement of my own prowess,
I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t walk
Everything I uttered only made echoes of my dog’s life
Enough son, she tapped my brother
We rose in tears,
Our tattered clothes covered less of our birthday suits.
The cold gloaming darkened with our glowing hearts.
We had little of joy
And grotesque images flowed our minds again.
The day was easier with images of people bypassing us.
Tapping us with warmth or spitting us in despise
You could join me, a wrong spirit in me would tell them in stillness
We probably enjoyed the daytime hull
Yet twilight of no light shed on our happy bitterness.
Enough son, enough daughter, we can talk
The voice echoed again
This time louder than before.
Maybe the perfect time had come
We clinged in fear with a hope to be heard,
Enough daughter, enough son, we can now talk
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