REFLECTIONS AND MIRORS ODUKOYA GRACE OMOLOLA

Bound to the invisible chains weighing me down I tug helplessly like a zombie, looking back and forth Torn between being the perfect version of the “her” in their heads Or maybe the real “her” deep down that I maybe haven’t even realised Like a china doll with a smile plasted on her face, I wave like the illusion Of perfection I seemingly symbolize My voice barely more than whispers, never heard I am Smiling even in the midst of fire, because that makes me a virtuous woman I try so hard to scream but a tiny squeak comes out I am lost between a cage of the perfect daughter, mother, wife What about me? Aren’t I something without being attached as someone’s I thought so hard as I looked into the mirror If only I could speak louder and more often I looked at the crinkles at my eyes as I smiled A shadow of myself, I was When would my reflection show, who I really was? I said ‘NO!’for the first time in years, I felt scared yet excited It sounded foreign to my guts, I tried to backtrack But I stopped for a moment. ‘NO!’ I said again, this time, firmer Horrified, they gasped, some said it was a phase I had been corrupted, some said, and I’d come back to my senses Happy I was, that I found the real ‘her’, excited to share ‘her’ with friends However, their disapproving looks made me wither Maybe it was not a good idea, maybe…lots of maybes I felt like I was trapped between two worlds,two bodies, two beings I look into the mirror, again, this time in exasperation Could I really be ‘her’? Or was I just a blind product of the society, to follow blindly like a zombie I guess I would never know, the risk was just too much to bear I have slipped, back to the patterns of fear, doubt and resentment. Rage at the girl staring back in my mirror Doesn't she know to speak up? Or is she awaiting a prince charming? I carress her face, tears sliding down my cheeks We had started the journey, 'baby steps', they said. One illusion of genuinity and she relasped For the umpteenth time, I rehearsed my lines 'Yes, mother, i'll obey' The only words she wanted to hear, The words I offered on a plate of my sweat and blood I wish I could stand up for myself However my bravado lies in me, mud sticking on it Or maybe I did not have any bravado, even faux Maybe I was born, a spawn to obey, heads bowed down, tails beneath her legs, shivering as she lets them trample over her I saw Layla, the other day, a beautiful meek and virtuous daughter Her praises have been sung in my ears, that I know her eulogy The one who is far beyond roses, rare to find...or maybe not I saw her, no! a shadow of her Nails painted blood red like the thirsty witch, rainbow extensions that fall to her waist Where is she, the one my mother wants me to embody? Far gone! Mother says she is on the path to destruction MY head agrees in a up-down motion But my heart yearns to taste the freedom of choosing her path and owning the consequences