My Mother and a Prayer || by Ifiokobong Etuk

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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

Son,

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

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MEET THE POET:

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