Zaynab Uthman
You saw the confusion on your sister’s face.
But you didn’t understand –
You didn’t ask.
When your sister approached you,
And said your father wanted you,
you wanted to ask if you were in trouble,
But you didn’t.
You went –
Because it was your father.
Your father put you on his laps
and touched you.
Kissed your cheeks,
Softly.
Like he would putting you to bed.
Then he entered you,
You didn’t cry.
You didn’t scream.
He was your father.
And he sent you off with a biscuit.
Then you saw your sister.
And the look on her face was a reflection of yours.
A mirror image of the thousand thoughts you couldn’t piece together.
And you finally understood.
You held each other.
Like in benediction.
Without tears.
Without words.
Praying with your souls.
Prayers your mouths were too weak to speak.
You wrapped around each other’s .
Your limbs indistinguishable.
And in that day you became one.
He made you sisters.
Not only by blood.
But by mutual pain and hate.
