EVERYWHERE THE AIR GOES, I GO (a poem by Uwen Precious Ogban)

Read Time:1 Minute, 10 Second
/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.

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