Oh mother of my words,
Please do not rush me

Please do not hush every unintelligible word
Which is heard before I finally find my vocabulary.

I have not learnt my lines.
I’m waiting so just
Please have
A little

Oh mother of my words,
Please do not force your narrative into my mouth.
Your story sits uncomfortably in this

Afro-framed silhouette.

Do not interrupt, do not make me forget
What I wanted to say.

I want to say that
I think

I have not the voice to produce the poetry that
Expresses the strife of my mother.

I am a third generation with no sense
Of the other.
Let me tell you
The stories that lie behind and underneath a system that I understand oh too firmly
But do not believe in.
Afford me the time
To tell of
Rhymes that discuss the politics of the politics that govern my century and my life.

Oh mother of my words,
Do not judge me                            too hard.
Do not close your eyes when you hear me fight to retrieve a language that was never mine

Oh mother of my words,
Do not disown us,
Just yet

Do not scratch your head at the task of trying to categorise my style and my ways
My words,

I Promise,

  Are my own.
And they are not potent enough to stick,
But I intend for them to imprint

For a while.

Oh mother of my words
Do not marginalise the diasporic,
Do not
Advocate the gentrification and correction
Neither the suffocation of our voice.

                                                       Please do not join them.

Oh mother of my soul,
I do not believe in editing the words to make them palatable
Please leave them as they are.

– Amara Amaryah

6 thoughts on “ Our Diasporic Reality ”

  1. Wow pure class, I love the style in which you write. You have an amazing storytelling ability. I am always left with a mind full of thought after reading your pieces.

    So very proud of you!!!

    congratulations x

  2. Amara Amaryah,
    This is possibly my favourite one of your poems because it is truly thought provoking. As first generation British with Immigrant parents I always have the faint taste of what being Nigerian is supposed to be in my mouth but I don’t have the words to express it. You’ve definitely inspired me to be bold and attempt to write again.
    Peace and love,
    Maria xx

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