like the night before,
i crawled under our bed,
from where i watched them;
cut my brother’s arms,
smash my father’s testicles,
plant iron seeds in mama’s thighs
& left me a glass of fresh milk.
that night, death was with me
& he began to teach me how to live.
he dipped his finger in the spilt blood
& let the droplet cool my tongue,
for i was like the burning bush-
ablaze but unburnt.
see, memories are paintbrushes
they choose the colour of our minds,
& stain the mud walls of our hu(r)ts
when dipped in the shrieks of a dying boy.
so last night when the door creaked again
i quietened my heart & listened.
but there were no hoarse voices.
no gunshots. no cow mows. nothing!
just that creak and a huge figure
with glowing eyes entered. It was God!
Shitta Faruq Ademola's #poem, "Sacrilege", narrates the girlchild's plight with such sharp imagery. He takes a few steps in the shoe fate gifts #women and shares the feel. Enjoy the #read: https://eboquills.com/2020/07/11/sacrilege-by-shitta-faruq-ademola/ #WillSmith #LagosIsland
We took out time to make a list of #literary platforms, #competitions, #writing fellowships, and #contests open for #submissions in the month of #July 2020. You have our best wishes! https://eboquills.com/2020/07/03/contest-open-for-submissions-for-the-month-of-july-2020/
Our team of #editors, eagerly await you to answer the phone or #write back via emails to begin working with you on whatever #writing project you are on. Don't be that #writer who underestimates the power of a 3rd eye. https://eboquills.com/2020/07/01/editors/?shared_counts_refresh=1