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 woman in red
crawls until her hands touch a spectacle.
Here, we kneel. We hustle the light under
our shadows of emptiness.
I found my father in saltwater, drowning.
An old photo, clutched in his hand.
Wanting to rescue all of them—
school boys, standing in memorial,
all shape shifting into earth’s marble cage,
we both agree there is nothing left
except hope. But how much hope is enough
to keep our hearts from weeping?
See, he is here, dressed in metaphors
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.