Thoughts from the Simmers

a writing by Adeosun Olamide Ayo

To the adulterous wife, will you cast the stone; does she deserve your hatred, vengeance, anguish? To your adulterous wife, let her go- do not strip her of honor than she has’ already, do not strip her- to be raped by all, do not let your sons throw a stone to her head – but rather, do as I implore, protect her as she goes through your door, protect her evermore- for it is love, when it is undeserved and the recipient is most unworthy.

To the thief, do not lynch him, feed him if he’s hungry, shelter him if you can, nurture him then- but if you can’t- surrender him to the government, let the government give you a protector in him, a philanthropist, a doctor.

You shall not rape a whore- even a lesbian, you shall not rape her, to those that go against your morality, you shall not rebuke them by immoral acts against their persons, you shall not correct them in a decadent way, you shall live on- ever bright, absence hatred in your mien- for when they see the radiance over you, they may be stirred, convinced to toil your ways, restored by your act, reaction- to them you wish change- love more.

And even those who curse your prophets’, pray for them, do not have them slain

For the betrayed, know- that sometimes even our own gods, emotions, strength- betrays us. Expect perfection from none, for even Christ the son of God was forsaken on the cross by his father, anticipate as being- this, that circumstances, greed are oft breeds- the betrayal and oft each and every act is furnace by it, and know- that never can you extinguish or sate or know the needs of others. Take your betrayal as the wind does when abandoned by the rain, for still in the end, it romances the sea, the desert and lives ever on- dependent on none.

In the mist, obscurity- art your eyes, for the things that makes us beautiful, desirable can be taken from us- our smile, our hair, our selflessness, our pride, our breast, our perfect nose can be flawed, pleasant voices may turn grim, our glowing skin can be made to bear scars, our gowns of white can be soaked in blood, and robes our integrity can be rend in shreds, our cleanliness can become filth, our tenderness, bounteousness can be snuffed out- don’t say it can’t until you have passed through the fire, through the mud, don’t say it can’t until you been dragged through the dirt, made to gulp your own tears, the evilness in all of us- can be sparkled, enlivened by our contexts but it can also be extinguished by those around us. Be one of the latter.

To the young lover, our eyes glimpses at lust- lust is desire- be it fleshy, sexual, good. That desires him because of his brilliantness, charity- is it love, ask too what happens when he stops, when he no longer could forth you smile or sing or render you the silence you desire, ask too what happens when he loses his soul and becomes a demon. It is love- when be it good or fiend, fresh or rotten- you desire it still and when he desires you not, you linger ever more at the door- while his deeds failingly attempt to claw out the love in you. Find, my young lover- that’s seen your deepest flaws and all masks your face may come to bear, that no stigma can press upon you an identity he shall disassociate with or find unease with- my young lover- find endingly for this you shall not find, but you my young lover- can be this, wearing as crown- this folly called love, becoming soulless or still could make reason rather than emotion thy guide.

I have riches, coins that shall rust, I have thrones’, crowns of thorns, I have robes that will be rag tomorrow, I have beauty that shall pale in the morning. Do you love me then, when tomorrow I can make your life a hell? Can I love you then, when if I love you I can’t love myself?

To the mother, who knows her baby won’t turn out good, who knows her boy shall hurt others, who suffers and aches at the darkness that stems in her little one and how no light can snuff it out- be without fear- nurturance takes away the instinct in us, the beast we are meant to be, do not cut the little fingers because the claws swells or blind the eye because the sclera is red or cut the tongue because of the curses nor should you remove the heart because of the villainy. Know your baby, child is beast as all human were- and by effort’ reflect you desire shall shoot, know then- that what you think is not knowledge- and what you think you know- too is powerful in who your child shall become.

To the teachers’, that shall mold the lives of our little ones. Make their lives desirable

To Sinead the troubled, you no longer different- not even empty, you are just heavy, too heavy- it weighs you down. Sinead, the laurels are -clothe in dust, webs. Sinead- what you are now, what you have become, the anger you feel, the loneliness that swallows you, the sadness without depth- Sinead, this- that you have become- find a way’ a way in your darkness, seek the echoes, in the deep silence- you have faded, seek the waters, the sunlight to gear you towards bloom, from pale. Put your feelings into it, into the symphony, this one symphony- let it bleed you, let it bleed you, let it bleed your eyes, let it shame you, you can’t feel it, you have gone through worse- put the feelings there- in this symphony and once again we will be with you, we will be back with you, to raise you from the cinders, to make you breathe again. Sinead, leave this space, you won’t find us here or whatever you seek- you will find it, when you let it all wear away, when you water the starved love you have left to wither. We will come then to you, Sinead. The stars still watches you, still remembers you.

The sorrows that troubles my heart, but I know this storm won’t make me stormy and my peace would ease the sea.

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