Danger

Tummy squeezing

aching.

Turning in circles

down in a spiral.

Sending signals,

undercover messages,

and red light beam screens.

Gotta listen 2 the signals

Listen 2 the signals.

Red alarm beat growing higher like crescendos.

Trigger here

Trigger there

Trigger everywhere.

How do I hide from trigger fingers that react from the thin air?

Is there a space 2 lock you in... so I do not have to hide?

I would tell you this is love, but it’s just attachment mixed with pride.

I would say you mean the world 2 me

But you’re just another guy.

Who shits,

Spits,

Wears out his favourite kicks

Who camouflages with the boys

And stands on his tippie toes, extra tall, to impress the chicks.

I do not play a role within your life anymore.

I will not spectate on the juxtapose.

The truth is; I love the light,

but the shadows give me anxiety.

and the grey hidden beneath the shadows sing a hymn to my insanity.

It is flushed with a plethora

a plethora of thoughts

and laughs

and cries.

I love you, I suppose, but I cannot love your shadow side.

That space is reserved for you,

so please, just look it in the eye.

I understand that trauma moulded you into this guy.

I get it.

Trust me, I do.

But that’s exactly why I can’t stay.

I love you.

Trust me, I do.

I just can’t let this take me to the grave.

Red lights scream out mayday

I listen to them this time.

My triggers lay out easter eggs

I follow them outside.

They just want the best for me,

to tuck me in and keep me safe.

My body screams out danger.

Danger written, on this grave.

My body screams out danger,

but my mind knows I am fine.

I don’t resonate with that place no more.

So, I’m grateful for the time.

The time that passes by, aging my wounds.

Like fine wine.

I’m grateful for the time

Because that just means there’s more goodbyes.

I’m thankful for the aging,

cause age comes with new perspectives.

I’m grateful 4 the maturity to explore my own reflections.

I’m grateful for my Lolade.

Who fed my life with love, when confused.

I’m grateful for my Lolade.

Who tilled the soil to make the fruit.

The panic of uncertainty

hyper agility

and passive cues.

Do not rule this life no more.

I said goodbye, and paid my dues.

The fear of sheltered whispers.

Eyes that stop and stare.

Do not rule my life no more.

I let go of the fears.

I have changed immensely.

I recognize the difference.

The light once shut and dimmed

now shimmers over rivers.

I do not let the fears

shield me from my dreams.

I go where I am called.

I go where I am seen.

I wish you rows of evergreens

and cozy winter days.

I wish we could’ve found a way,

but I will not prolong my stay.

about the poet

Lolade Durodola is a First Generation Nigerian-Canadian from the west of Toronto. She is a self-taught multidisciplinary artist. Lola seeks to evoke the profound depth of conviction that often eludes verbal expression, fostering a deep sense of connection and understanding.

She works across various mediums, including spoken word, writing, painting, sketching, and pastels. With a primary focus on the importance of expression, capturing raw emotion and advocating for oppressed groups.