Chastity lost playing house
and so was the appetite of our curiosity.
Our little minds asked big questions
our nimble hands sought answers.
Preadolescent nymphs, frying plantain and eggs.
Their eggs and my seeds had not formed yet.
Trees of knowledge spring
from curiosity's seeds.
Many are the species of trees
in the woods of awareness.
First came the landlord's daughter
then the two sisters.
Would an aunt's discovery save us?
Were we too far gone?
Curiosity smothered innocence.
Crooked branches sprouted from trees
which were yet seedlings
germinating in soils
of adult cravings.
It was done in the dark.
We could not
turn back.
The dark was clothed outside with daylight.
The maid sealed my fate.
Shadowy consort
of two cousins.
I tottered
towards puberty
sworn to
secrecy, of enchanting impurity.
Darkened, by the richness of humus
below the plain clay atop its coming growth
the seedling pushes through topsoil
of land, house, being and the world.
…shaped by what had been,
fighting for life which sheds what it had been
to become what it could be.
(c) Baba Aye (2021) Drafts of Becoming
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