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!
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Issue 5 is LIVE! Guest editors: @malingose, @WillieKinardIII & @postcolonialchi. Cover: Alex & Frans Odicky. Illustrations: @cocoette_. Stories, poems, essays & photos from Kenya, Nigeria, Trinidad & Tobago, Ghana, Sudan, St. Lucia, Zimbabwe, & more
my poem "A Travelogue: The Grief & Ruins Outside our Walls" is now published on Eboquills. @eboquills
click link to read full poem 🖤🥂https://eboquills.com/2022/05/20/one-poem-by-olowo-qudus/
Check out this list of #opportunities for #writers (see link). The #deadlines are in May 2022, so roll up your sleeves and get to work.
Best wishes! https://eboquills.com/2022/05/07/opportunities-for-writers-with-deadline-in-may-2022/