Sickle Cell
By Lily Nwamaraihe
Dear Sickle Cell,
They tell me stories about you,
About the restraints you have in my life.
They tell me stories about you,
About the pain that you will cause.
I listen to these stories,
And feel the clutch that you have,
But what they didn’t tell me
Is what affects me most.
I search for that special someone,
Like many others in this world,
I search for that special someone,
Who gets me the most.
The one that makes me smile,
With a twinkle in my eye.
The one that makes me laugh,
Until no sound leaves my mouth.
I search the eyes of my latest date,
And wonder, if this is the one?
I search the eyes of my latest date,
And wonder, can he handle the truth?
Can he handle the pain, the hospitals, and all the medications?
All this I wonder.
And then I wonder more.
I really wish I knew how,
Not to be afraid.
I really wish I knew how,
Not to feel ashamed.
I really wish I knew how,
Not to live in the dark.
I really wish I knew how,
To come out and live in the light.
They say be careful of who you love,
Cos of the sickle in your blood.
They say be careful of the kids you have,
Cos of their lives, their health, their future.
I agree with all the things they say,
But there is always one burning question,
How do you choose who not to love?
Who not to marry?
Who not to be in your future?
Black, white, yellow, brown,
How do you choose who to fall for?
Africa, Asia, Europe,
Can you decide which to choose?
Is there sickle in their blood?
Are their eyes tinged with yellow?
Can you spot the signs that says,
This is not the one for you?
Black love, Brown love,
The choices are not endless.
Don’t love who you love,
Don’t fall for those with sickle blood.
They say you can’t help who you love,
They say love is a not a choice.
But this is not my story,
This is not my life.
Love has its boundaries.
Love is just not free.
Love is not the same,
For you and for me.