The What’s And Ifs Of An Angel Poem by Chika Nwokeoma

It was on a Friday night,
not close to Halloween
my baby sister gave birth to an angel,
she came out beautiful with a lighter shade of blue;
like the northern light
she didn’t cry

I did remember my Pa sat in his favorite chair
dull look, shoulder slumped
like a lion defeated in battle
while, ma’s subtle cry, half moaning with a tint of melody
graces the event.
We apportioned a permanent place for her in the front yard
so as not to lose sight of her; if ever...as protection.
Those of us that cried, and still crying
with hearts fill with whys’, what’s and ifs...

If she had cried,
she would have been welcomed with smiles, songs and gunshots;
bribed with breast milk and cuddles...
her vomits and faeces would have also been welcomed.
My Pa had bought a pet rabbit
with furs as white as snow
which we named divine;
she only lasted for two days.

The ifs gave way to what’s, as we wonder what would have been.
our blue angel would have become a doctor; maybe
who will help cure malaria in Africa.
or a medical scientist; probably help find cure to The AIDS virus.
maybe, she might have even become the mediator between
Israel and Palestine...
maybe...

Chika Nwokeoma