I Bet You Thought You'd Broken Me

I bet you thought you'd broken me.

That I'd thirst without your droplets
and starve without your crumbs.

I'll let my waistline speak for itself.

There was a sting in your leaving
that lingered longer than I'd admit.
Yet it has only swelled since you last left,
with no promises of ever dropping.

I bid thee adieu as you go your merry way.

For I may now return to my hard-earned feasts,
where platters of warm, honeyed bread steam
beneath the laughter of my kin
and the sharp scent of Jollof herbs
escapes into the night.

I will share with my kinsmen,
For you have forced us not to wish to be like you.

Around our table, hands clap,
shoulders and voices rise.

"Let us eat, let us laugh,
let what we have be plenty,"
My mothers declare, and we all nod,
bread breaking in eager hands,
eyes bright with understanding.

Together, we make a great festival of defiance.