/everything gets to me these days: oxygen. sound. bright light. nighttime. my reflection. people. friends. school. work. my name. car horns. i cannot name my situation, cannot categorize my pain. i am hurt. i am fading away. i feel everywhere the air goes, i go. most times, the ability to find oneself at the end is to get missing. i will feel better if i can shape shift, like some immortal being into air or water or sound - something unable to bend to life's rule. i am tired of mundane activities like waking up to a ceiling. the sea embraces the shore. the shore pushes it away. after day is night. why do they say it that way, that day comes before night? a guitar is played below the face. a trumpet needs a mouth to make its melody. we all need air to be alive. i am standing on a branch of life and willing it to break. why do we all have to go by a name to show identity? i have no reservations for what i want. as human, i must bend to a rule, must become a person answering a unique name from my father's lineage/.
Uwen Precious Ogban resides in Calabar, Nigeria. His works have appeared or are forthcoming on various platforms including Eboquills, Kahalari Review, Dote Flane, Fiction Niche, the Christmas and Candlelight anthology and elsewhere.