The Ache of My Father
“Following the kidnap of a relative in August 2024”
All his friends were leaving.
Not in the way his ancestors left.
I mean, there is a soul
held in a forest. Mouth, sealed.
Hands tied. Helpless.
And we keep reaching for God,
like how the lady in red snuck
until her hands touched the smooth linen
of love
Unlike us
who hustle light like miners beneath a tunnel.
Did you see my father in saltwater?
How he drowns with that old photograph
clutched in his hand.
Wanting to rescue all of them—
school boys, standing in memorial
shape shifting to that bone place.
We both agree there is nothing left
except hope. But how much hope is enough
to keep our hearts from weeping?
In-between these metaphors is a soul
and I hold a torch to say, I am still
searching.
Annah Atane is a Nigerian writer. Her poems have appeared in the Brittle Paper, The menniscus, The Muse journal, Valiant Scribe, Writeresque, Ric Journal and elsewhere.