Written by: Pamilerin Jacob
I fail miserably
at my most beloved habit. Suddenly,
a stone is a stone. A cloud is a cloud. &
the water in my cup possesses
no ancient history. Not a symbol. Not
a metaphor. The mornings are stripped clean
of magic: birds, no longer messengers; nor
yawns, pathways to dreams. I suppose
they call this
a writer’s block. I hate it,
this absence of vision. I know there is a poem
in my bowl of rice, lodged
between grains. Miracle so plain
it is invisible. This morning, slicing onions
in the kitchen, a cliché caressed my knuckles
until they bled. & all day, I have studied
the red orifice with attentive eyes.
Haven’t you heard, miracles
Like angels, live only in the blip
of darkness, the eyelids provide;
in the fluttering—escaping us?
Pamilerin Jacob is a Nigerian poet whose poems have appeared in Barren Magazine, Agbowó, Poetry Potion, Rattle & elsewhere. He was the second runner-up for Sevhage Poetry Prize 2019. Author of Memoir of Crushed Petals & two chapbooks; he is a staunch believer in the powers of critical thinking, Khalil Gibran’s poetry & chocolate ice-cream.
Photo Credit: Pexels.com
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