amen
by Taiwo Hassan
Ogun, Nigeria
allow me to anoint this poem first with a prayer, & find a thousand
and three ways to paint each line with the colour of my blood.
perhaps this time, each word can carry the weight of grief
& a bird will nest here, with an ode to hope, carefully resting on its
beak. once, i saw a boy fight for his teddy bear.
in grunts only these eyes could understand, i watched him
clamour for the same shield on his mouth, on the treasure he held.
who knew that day was just healing adorned with a mask?
call it a miracle, i'm still here finding the key for this song.
or how do you explain that not all dark clouds are pregnant with
rain? what stories do you knit to make sense of this miscarriage?
that windows are doors that just haven't found their keys.
in this poem, every question is an autopsy for the pain i never named.
walk through this body and count the cadavers i house.
today, my eyes are a siren. there's another boy waiting to be a mirror
for this image.
me, a well at the verge of dying,
waiting for a miracle, waiting for rain.
Taiwo Hassan
Taiwo Hassan is a Nigerian student, poet, and writer. His works have appeared in Shallow Tales Review, Second Skin Magazine, Praxis Magazine, Ice Floe Press and Disquiet Arts, to mention a few. When he's not writing, he's either listening to music, singing, or watching a TV series.