‘Dry’ isn’t just a movie, it’s a revelation, and as a man, I feel touched in a way I haven’t felt before. I feel everything Halima went through even though I am not a female. I appreciate your effort, and I believe someone out there is smiling because of you.
This poem is my own way of feeling your movie, I hope more people can be ‘Dry’
I Used To Have A Dream
I used to think about what could have been
whenever I gaze upon the rising sun.
there is a broken pot in me,
and I’m just another carrier of shards,
forever wet with the shame of unknown fistula.
I used to have dreams about the white collar
I believed in a life of stethoscope
Because I felt that was why my parents sent me to elementary.
I never wondered why I look like a younger sister to my mother,
I never understood why my father looks so old
I wasn’t wise enough to realize the cycle
I am just a little girl trying to find my feet.
I wasn’t even two dozens old
they told me I had to get married
what seemed weird to me
was perfectly fine with everyone else.
Do not remind me of the moon please
didn’t it shine on my shame when I lost my pride ?
his white beards scratched me
while heaven looked on and smiled with the moon.
I used to have a dream of impending happiness,
kids I would call my own
I am not even earth enough
but they want me to grow a seed!
why force a stone inside a small calabash?
I used to dream of life,
now the sun is setting,
and I’m still not dry.
I am still a broken piece,
another of numerous naive victims.
I am a voice so tiny
my ears hurt from jeers!
I am a walking puppet
tuned to the dance of men,
men who parade me and others in a show of shame.
I used to believe in being alive
which is why ask,
why should I die bringing life?
Who is listening?
We don’t stop what we watch.
Thank you so much Kolawole for this touching poem.
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