The Masked Poet

by Albert Enang Eng Usang

  - This is what I'm talking about; you never say anything lovely to me nor express my aesthetic worth until it satisfies your egocentric idiosyncrasies. On this day you don't want me to shine my star to the world, you suddenly know I am beautiful right? What happens if you said that everyday?

  - Don't be silly. What man does that? Tell a girl everyday: 'l love you?' It's more theoretical than it is practical. What l know, is doing the most important thing which is taking good care of you and everyone knows in that regard, I'm doing my utmost best; everybody including you.

  - Taking good care of me my foot! Is that all a woman needs? Look, let me educate you: a woman needs more emotional and psychological care than material; you care for me materially alright, but I don't feel loved.

  - Story for the gods. Love isn't better expressed than the way I'm doing...........

  - I am vying for Miss Nigeria; like it or not!

  - You are going no where!

  - Then its over between us.

  - Over my dead body! Look here, don't you ever think you can extricate yourself from me that easily.

  - Okay, watch me contest in that pageant! Now leave! I don't want to see you near me again.

  At this juncture, he noticed for a moment he was overbearing. He toned down.

  'Calm down, just calm down. This doesn't call for an over reaction.' He petted. 'I'm sorry if you are offended but l................

  'I said out! Or are you going to lay claims to renting this apartment for me? Outttttt!!' She shouted as she virtually pushed him out of the house, banging the door heavily after him.

  Victor felt it was wise to let her alone at least for that day. It would be a fruitless venture making an angry woman see reason in the heat of a rage. The next day, he made moves to ensure they reconciled their differences and forge ahead in their relationship. He called from morning till evening but she refused picking. He was patient, believing her anger had not yet abated. But by the second day, her line was no longer available. At morning hours, he excused it off as one of those periods when she was probably busy, but when it continued all day, he could barely hold himself that evening, praying fervently for dawn so he could go to her place and tender an apology. Actually, it was because he was scared of a negative response from her if he visited without her permission on phone first, that kept him away for two days. On the third day, he decided to brace all odds and go see his love at her house. Already, he missed her so much and could not stand another day without seeing her or hearing her voice. When he got there, the surprise of his life awaited him. Her apartment was locked from the front door to the back. So too were the windows. He knocked and knocked, hard, harder, hardest, thinking at first she could be hiding inside. Eventually, it dawned on him no one was inside and that she has not just stepped out, but was rather no longer staying there, at least for the last two days. First, he was filled with anger that Delight has chosen this line of action amongst the very many available to settle a score, and to imagine that a full fledged man like him, a man ladies were dieing to have, was meted this kind of treatment, annoyed him to the high heavens. But afterwards, in lieu of the anger, fear took its rightful place. As a matter of fact, it was supposed to be his first emotional reaction under normal circumstances except that with his ego and pride in the lead, blazing the trail, circumstances were in no way going to be normal, until somehow, he was able to push them off, and from beclouding his reasoning senses to start thinking properly. When eventually, fear overtook his ego, it became worse than the anger he felt initially. Suddenly, reality dawned on him he was at the verge of loosing the love of his life; the only girl he can ever love. Yes, he is a ladies man with lots of money and style, meaning lots of ladies were on the flanks waiting to trap him down with their love armoury, but amongst all of them, or selectively amongst the most beautiful of them after a thorough sifting, there is no other beauty, no other love, no other girl in the world for him, other than the enchanting Delight Same. By the 'force' of love, his force of love as he understands the use of might to retain love, which he believes is the 'African way' of keeping a lover, he had scared off, and scared her away from competitors for her love, entrapping her in his powerfully spun 'love cocoon;' but now, right before him, what he felt has been studiously protected in his enclave, was slipping away from him. And it appears to be slipping in the most unexpected style. He is that kind of a man who loves a fight; a love fight. Reversely however, this situation gave him no chance to fight or at least so it appeared, as Delight was no where to be found. It would be far better she was available to maltreat him, or that he saw her with another guy; that would give him a lifeline. But without Delight's presence in all of these, there is absolutely nothing he could do. He called all her known friends starting with the closest, Joanna, but all of them claimed they saw her last four days ago and have no idea which part of the earth she was. Victor scratched his head very roughly:

  'This is the problem with love in the city!' He exclaimed on a soliloquy. 'I don't even know her village in Cross River State, nor her parent's house down there, else I would right now, travel there! But where can l find Delight? Sweetheart where are you? If you can hear me, I'm very sorry about everything. Please come back, l will allow you contest in the pageant. I will not only allow you, l will help you fulfil your dream. Please, please, where are you? Come back!'

  It was a waste of time. He was just blowing harmless and unfeeling wind. He did not see her again until after three months when he saw her on national tv, emerging winner of the Miss Nigeria beauty pageant held in Lagos; emerging invariably, the new Miss Nigeria............

  CHAPTER 5

  The Masked Poet employed a few number of poets at the Emotional House. These were responsible for composing especially the general poems and in some cases, the romantic poems, when the Masked Poet was extra busy. The specific poems were no go areas except for the Masked Poet. However, whether written by the Masked Poet or his employees, every poem emanating from the Emotional House was assumed written by the Masked Poet except there is otherwise, a need to highlight the particular poet. Soon, the House got overwhelmed with demands for poems and decided to start advertising for poems from poets out there. Worthy poems were bought by the House while those not selected were sent back to the composing poets read and considered, but not published, so they can still use them for whatever plans they have in the future. As for the Masked Poet, his hands were full with the demand for specific emotional poetic services. The first specific emotional demand for his services was an outdoor order. It was a most touching encounter. A Young man in his early thirties had walked into his office on an earlier appointment and they were about to conclude all negotiating formalities before embarking on the journey to the location of the outdoor service. The young man wore a very sullen face, obviously saddened by something.

  'You are highly welcome sir.' The Masked Poet offered as he motioned him to a seat. 'Please sit.'

  'Thank you.' The young man replied as he sat.

  - You are the one who called earlier about a loved one in the hospital right?

  - Yes.

  - This loved one, what exactly is the relationship?

  - She is my lover. Much more, she is my fiancee. Our marriage is supposed to be in two months.

  - You said she's been diagnosed of a terminal disease?

  - Yes. Cancer of the breast. She never noticed until it festered long enough and spread round her body.

  - Wowwww!........... I'm really so sorry. How long does she have?

  - Two weeks.

  - What? Two weeks? So soon?

  - It is a very sinister cancer, fully blown before giving a sign.

  - My God! What exactly do you want the Masked Poet to do for you in these circumstances?

  - I love this girl so so much. She loved me when I had nothing, standing by me amidst all efforts to extricate her from me by her family and friends till her belief in me paid off and I made it big time. I'm doing all l can these few last days of her
life to express my love to her and as well make life a little more tolerable for her these few days. I want you to follow me to her bed and read a relevant soul touching poem written by you since I'm not so good with words. Thereafter, l will make sure the poem is repeated at least thrice a day for the remainder of her life.

  - Wowww! .... This is challenging. So, you really believe poems can help you at this hour of need?

  - Yes, especially those written by the Masked Poet. Like most women, she loves the deliberate use of sentimental words, and you are the man for it.

  - The words, or the poem is not the problem. Just that I need to know your belief in the power of words and also, I'm so touched by your circumstances.

  - Saying the right words, telling her the most soothing things, and taking care of her in that hospital till she dies, is the much l can do. Don't you think so?

  - I do. Absolutely. Just before we go, my fee for outdoor services is non- negotiable.

  - That is not a problem. You need not worry; l came prepared.

  - To the hospital then.

  At the hospital, the young told his fiancee that the Masked Poet has come to read a poem which would reflect his thoughts for her. She was excited as she smiled through the pains to welcome the special guest, the Masked Poet. After the formal consolatory pleasantries, he told her he would stand behind her fiance while reading the poem. Thus, she should concentrate fully on looking at her fiance's face while the poem is read as though he, her fiance is the one reading, meaning she wouldn't see the Masked Poet until he is done reading the poem. Also, as a mark of humanity, he has decided to render a lyric kind of, but longer than a lyric.

  'I know already know.' The sick lady replied. 'I was at the inauguration of the Emotional House.'

  'And l downloaded the video later on from your website.' The sick lady's fiance added.

  The Masked Poet stared at them for a while, partly shocked and partly recognizing the enormity of the task at hand with a couple who absolutely believe in his skill, worth, and talent. The Masked Poet came with his pianist friend whom he asked to position the piano towards the sick lady's bed head. Next, he positioned her fiance close to her pillow on the right side of the bed in standing mode, so he would concentrate, looking only at his face. Then he, the Masked Poet, took his position behind the standing fiance as he began:

  'This poem is titled: 'MY ENCLOSED LOVE.'

  The heart used to be sacred

  true love used to be sacred

  the heart room was sacred

  and hearty love was sacred.

  Journeys to her territory

  was a one directional buzz

  of sincerity and forever

  till idiosyncrasies smeared her

  till philosophies strayed her

  and defiled her pure altars

  strangled her very rudiments

  upturning her very sanctity

  into a melodramatic theatre

  of free entry and exit

  which narrates the heart room

  and incursions in there as

  the latest game of chess.

  The day l met you

  I invaded your heart room

  with intent on a sojourn

  I left the door open

  so l could freely exit

  as l'd freely entered

  but not long after

  less longer than time

  I closed the door

  even, locked it too!

  I discarded the keys

  I closed the door!

  choosing a closed love

  a closed heart room

  a closed hearty love

  just after some rounds

  of loving spell bounds

  from your love's symphony.

  (Singing)

  Love has wide open doors

  to enter or leave at will

  and thus have many practised

  until you showed me

  some love, some love

  have tightly closed doors

  and some lovers, some lovers

  do choose a closed love.

  So I opened the door

  and did not close it

  but you moved my hand

  to close it forever

  and close it l did!

  yes, l closed it to all!

  to all else, to all

  to other ladies, to all

  to adversities, to all

  to calamities, to all

  to fiery storms, to all

  and closed is it still

  focused solely on you.

  And now know l that,

  despite all infiltrations,

  the heart can be sacred still

  true love can be sacred still

  the heart room can be sacred still

  and a hearty love still can be

  a filtered drudgery of sincerity.

  (Singing)

  Love has wide open doors

  to enter or leave at will

  and thus have many practised

  until you showed me

  some love, some love

  have tightly closed doors

  and some lovers, some lovers

  do choose a closed door......

  When the Masked Poet ended the poem, both fiance and fiancee were already wearing very reddened eyes, so made by suppressed tears which overflew and poured out, flowing like a starved spring down the cheeks of their faces. Then, they started sobbing, and soon, were crying, cuddled in each other's arms with the lady still lying straight on the bed while the man had by now, bent forward to receive her lying invitation for a soulful embrace. Locked in that embrace and amidst much tears, the man sputtered:

  'Truly dear, my love for you is a closed one. I always want you to know this: l have no other way out, and can never get out.'

  'I have no reason to doubt your closed love, my love, you have been appreciative, reciprocal, and caring, even to the end.' The lady replied as she also stuttered her words through the tears.

  - Please stop saying that word 'end.' You shall not 'end,' neither will our love. Rather, it shall continue!

  Hihick hihick........hihick..........hihick........wrahhhhhh............

  The sounds of their tears resonated all over the ward.

  The Masked Poet wasn't exempted. Along with his pianist, they didn't know when tears rolled down their eyes and where it came from.

  'As a gesture of generosity, l wrote an additional poem although I am supposed to write and read only one here. It comes straight from my heart and I beg your pardon to read it.' The Masked Poet informed as he interrupted their cries.

  Upon hearing his emotional gift, they lowered the tone of their cries, and gradually disengaged from each other as the lady spoke through her tearful voice, wiping off some watery sputum from her nose in the process, a side effect of the tears:

  'Thanks so much. That would be very kind of you.'

  'Now,' the Masked Poet instructed, 'back to our initial poetic postures.'

  The couple obliged as he got behind the fiance again.

  'This one is titled: 'I WILL RETIRE MY HEART FOR YOU........'

  There comes a time

  in all entities of the world

  where humans and numbers

  have their souls intertwined

  like filial kit and kin,

  to obligatorily retire the humans

  and sometimes the numbers too

  retiring the human, oh how plain!

  routine, as years draw high

  retiring the numbers, oh how rare!

  impromptu, as moments demand.

  More desirable is the latter

  smacks of class, outstanding,

  exceptionality, plus remarkability

  for the number first, as priority

  for the human next, inevitably.

  (Singing)

  I will retire your number

  deep in my heart's recesses

  your number is love

  your number
is love.

  I will retire it in my heart

  I will retire your number

  your number is love, yes it's love

  exceptional love, yes it's love

  stand out love, yes it's love

  I will retire your love

  so I don't forget it,

  I have to retire it

  for continued memorial,

  I have to retire it,

  for gratitude's sake,

  I have to retire it

  and for reciprocity,

  I must retire it.

  I will retire it forever!

  none else can wear it

  I'll make that sure

  as none else'll be you

  nor your love can tender

  and as I retire your number,

  deep inside my heart,

  I will also retire my heart

  for you, the whole of it

  so l love none else

  I won't love any else,

  as I'll retire my heart for you.

  (Singing)

  I will retire your number

  deep in my heart's recesses

  your number is love

  your number is love.....

  It was another round of sorrowful exchanges of tears by the love birds.

  'Yes my love, l will retire your number first, and when that number is there, retired in my heart, l don't think this heart of mine will love again; it will be retired for you.' The fiance stammered.

  'No honey,' the fiancee responded. 'You can't live your life that way. As for retiring my number, my love, in your heart, it is understandable. But as for retiring from love; no, no, no. Please, please, don't do that. When I'm gone............'

  - You will not go! Stop saying that. I don't want to hear it again.

  - I very much wouldn't want to go, but it is the reality we are unfortunately faced with. Like l was saying, when l am gone, please open up your heart to love again...........

  - l can't.......... (weeping)...... I just can't. I love you so much.

  - I love you too (crying). I will always love you. I will watch you from heaven above. I will be your guardian angel if I am permitted, but please, if you truly love me, make this a mark of your love for me when I'm gone; find a good girl and open up to love. I want you to make me that promise here and now.........