I should stop praying to my dead self, find a way to come back into inhabiting my skin, own my soul like I didn’t in the first act of living. Imagine me floating from the river, from the sky, into my hair, then my face, then my skin & imagine mother wearing bright clothes like all expectant mothers do.
In death,
there is no such thing as resting forever,
In living
we drink to the memories of lost one’s resting forever.
I ache to curve my mother’s face into my palms, tell her I am here but ghosts are what they are,
bodies without phalanges,
so instead I choose the body of a small child, mother, I am no longer gunning for my own extinction.
Ejiro Elizabeth Edward is a female writer from Nigeria. A passionate lover of the arts, she has been published on Inverse journal, stone of madness, Fortunate traveler and has been shortlisted for the dark juices anthology. She loves to travel and read when she’s not been frustrated by the schools system.
Twitter: Ejiroedward552
Instagram: Bookmistress.
Serotonin 