By Ayoade Olamide
it is sunday / again / & i'm performing holy
communion in my body / searching for the
perfect psalm to pray out of this merycism /
how can I be purged of these impurities without fading?
i shepherd myself to a bone meadow /
nailed a wooden cross to my forehead / then /
stuffed my spirit with frankincense & myrrh /
this is how i exorcize myself from the abyss /
washed myself in the red sea with hyssop /
diffusing my iniquities in the waters /
lord / how have i grown to become a desert land? /
how have i grown to become a metaphor for unholiness? /
this poem is a liturgy of nomenclature / to rename
everything that i've lost to the hands of apostasy /
there's a scar on my faith / & in it / i search for miracles /
tiny miracles that break one into a bloom of revival /
10/4/2023 09:16:36 am
This is interesting. It promotes your relationship with God.
15/4/2023 01:06:30 pm
This poem borders on the quest for spiritual purification and renewal. I feel the same way about the struggle to retain faith 💛
15/4/2023 02:29:52 pm
Good poem with awesome imagery and description.
15/4/2023 11:55:37 pm
A soul searching. This is beautiful
16/4/2023 12:21:04 am
This points out the desire to make right what has been wrong, and coming back to a saviour. Beautiful piece!
Abubakar Maimuna Esther
19/4/2023 04:04:51 pm
Ayoade (the joy of a king), I love your name!
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