Sister…this is not love by Onuora Onianwa .

Dear sister, a man who loves you will not hit you. Period.

I know you don’t know any better. I know your mother took it and told you it shows you’re a strong woman without any fetters.

I understand your friends and siblings told you it doesn’t matter, no matter the weather and it will it get better.  Sister…is…it…better?


As long as he provides for you, it will work out. That’s what Juliet tells you and you believe her. Her own home is on fire.

Every day beaten with rod and wire, she tires for the life she lives, but she believed her mothers words that she’s a survivor, if she can take the fire.

She’s a liar.

Don’t expect any better from Njideka. She says the same because she knows no other way of life, asides the slaps and the bites at night, while she cries and her baby in the next room doesn’t know why mummy cries and cries.

Sister…I see your cries

That man is breaking you down. With every beating you are more broken in the inside and confused about who you are, what’s going on and why love hurts so much.

Sister…love…doesn’t…hurt.
Sister ssshhh! No buts.
Allow me explain that you may grasp why all this shows that to him you have no worth.
Or maybe you do but he just…forgot?
At this rate you will be placed in a shallow grave where maggots enjoy your corpse as it rots.

x marks the spot.

The spot where your dreams have ended, where you wishes lie dead, cremated with the fiery words and punches from a man who thinks it is his right to destroy a beautiful queen…your story is ended.

Sister…

Love protects and it uplifts
Love encourages with wings of hope and faith, giving life to your spirit…not spirits that move a lover to desecrate you with his faulty logic, thinking you a misfit.

Sister…

Love will beautify
How many times will you lie that you fell down the stairs and that your miscarriage was because you didn’t eat well?

Sister…is it really well?

When will you tell…the truth that he pushes you down the stairs and his punches are lighting fast like that of a boxer after the ding of the bell?

Sister…is this peace?

When will you admit he takes his business failures, unrest and immaturity out on your face?

Sister…is this heaven?

When will you admit you’ve lost two children because he kicks your stomach while you lie on the floor bleeding like a sacrificial lamb to be eaten with bread unleavened?
Why won’t you tell the people that your sons and daughters were murdered by your own husband?

When will the desire for life and health be more than you desire to be in a relationship or married and when will it be enough to move you into action?

When…will…this…constant aggression and dehumanization lead you to cry out for salvation. When will you understand that YOU are meant to birth a nation? A nation of ideas and life, hope and peace and children. Yes! Children!

Sister…

You are beautiful and precious.
You deserve so much more than this disgust and rusting away of your values and life till all that is left of you is dust. 


Sister…this is not love. 

“Sister…this is not love.”

**Written by**                                                                                                                                     
Onuora Onianwa ©2016.

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