If I had an HYMEN

Throwback Tuesday #boychildday #savetheboychild #boysarenotstones #Nov11th

I found the phrase I jotted a month ago (and forgot) which will now become the title of this poem. I know it’s celebrated and past but… I couldn’t resist the urge to write something on it. I’m in love with this title so I still very much intend to update this piece as time goes on. So here.

Dedicated to the boy child

I was nine..
“Shush, tell no one about this, okay”
She always says, just before shutting my lips with
The two gigantic oranges on her chest
But these oranges were not like anything I’d seen before
Unsuspecting me,
Saw that ‘Auntie’ enjoyed it
And I liked the sweets and biscuits she rewards me with afterwards
To tell no one

One, I was nine
Two, I was naïve
Three, no one even asked
So I shrugged and swallowed…
For all they knew
“Junior just runs errands for auntie”
I did indeed run errands afterall,
I ran
With a third leg
I never knew I had
Into a hole
I never knew one could have
I ran
With my tongue coursing every ‘bump’ on her
Sucking even like I did my mother some years ago (I remembered)
My momma hadn’t asked me to suck in a long time
So I wondered why…

But no one told me
Not momma
Not dad
Who tells me everything about balls
Not the teachers in school
Not my teachers in church!
As always
I was supposed to know?
I was supposed to be ‘strong’?

Nine turned nineteen..
It became clear
That I was stripped off my foreskin so
I don’t have a skin to feel
That I don’t have a hymen so
I can’t break!
What if I had an hymen, ten years ago?
I wondered
I met Virginia, pretty lady
She had an hymen
I think I broke it, but then she hated me
I told her I didn’t hate Auntie
She just looked at me like I was some freak
I hated my self right there
I hated that I didn’t know that I should’ve hated Auntie
Or my Momma
For not telling me
I too had an hymen
It’s too late now

Now I’m twenty-nine
Pain has eaten me up
The bills, they still piling up
My tears, be welling up
Twenty-night years
Of shielding my jelly heart with them two pacs
Bearing on my shoulder
A weight of a thousand soldiers
But no one must know
No one must know that
This hands, this biceps, can only hold
But a little

©Grace Okoliko 2018

Published by theolahsmusings

Hi, I'm Grace. I'm passionate about God and relationships mean a lot to me. I love books, cats and sunsets.

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