‘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.
Have you watched DRY? What did you learn from it? Please email firstname.lastname@example.org and share your story on DRY to join the Movie Club.