on the best of days,
the skies do not fall to the ground
the earth spins slightly off axis
the seas barely hold back their rage.
angels do not watch you sleep anymore
instead they hold vigil at your door
praying to God to ease you of the pain
waving your demons away with lit up swords.
I am not who I used to be
the calm of still waters flow through my veins
cranes lay languidly in my skin
I am the bearer of the burdens of the goddess.
on the worst of days,
we are livid with the rage of our people
you are filled to the brim with tears left unshed
I am left as I am, wandering in the breeze.
Temitope Onakoya is "a barely there writer finding myself in places I did not know existed." You can follow her on Twitter @Tehmii_