You managed to deceive everyone that the wetness on your face was caused by the rain. You washed your face quietly, because we must all think you were just sweating. We do the photo-ops for Iyalode, but you keep your tears for the time when you are home and alone. You wish we take note of your pain, you want to explain the reason for your name, the reason you're broken in unusual places that no one can see, the reason you don't have the words to tell your story.
Remi, how deep is your misery! how is it that the heaven over your head is made of brass, that the earth under your feet produces thorns and scorpions? Why didn't you die in Maami's womb?
If only I can deceive myself with hope, that there's still a joy to wait for. That's there's still a song to sing.
Yours in sorrows.
Remi.
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...for all the girls and women looking for a reason to stay alive.
There's Hope.
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