My Mother and a Prayer || by Ifiokobong Etuk


To my mother, a prayer is a brittle thing 
that morphs into splinters when it crashes into a faithless heart.
To her, calling God is no use 
for a christianity that doubts the jurisdiction of his throne room.
inside the confines of my mother's smile
I find reasons to forget my ears in her laughter
and allow happiness play its trick on me.
I swim across a prayer to find myself.

Hitherto, my mothers prayer was the only living tree
In the shrinking forest of my friendship with God
she Hannah'ed to make a metaphor of me before her creator
And I knew God by Proxy.

A river still runs down my face after baptism
when I mourn the loss of my most treasured iniquities.
we bury things we wish to forget
but my past sins like Christ, conquers the grave of amnesia.

I wandered into this poem bearing the burden of nostalgia
for my mother's Christianity.
It was her who said to me
there's a little temple on the frame of your body 
hanging on the shoulders of your Christianity.
if I seek God, I'll find him there

Image Credit: ©Gail-Friends


IFIOKOBONG ETUK aka the KING of the QUILL is a Nigerian poet, writer and a student of communication studies in the university of Uyo, Nigeria. He writes Poetry as a means of exploring the concepts he finds interesting and self expression. Find him on Twitter @ IfiokobongEtuk & Facebook @Ifiokobong Etuk

Post a Comment

Post a Comment
Fiery Scribe Review