Take My Hands Instead

One pill…
Two pills…
Three pills…
And another…take my hands.

Isn’t that a perfect metaphor for how you go bananas, dig your feet into those coloured clips, stain your teeth with the feel, stain your fill with the filth, and assume the other filths fade?

Isn’t that how it makes you feel? The peel? No?

Then talk to me.

I want to hear it…take my hands.

This time, get high on the drug of my attention, snort on my love and exhale passion, and if clasping my hands will help, take them, let the tension go.

At first I didn’t listen because I thought it wasn’t you speaking. Your liver called out to me, your lungs did too, your strained heart cried out to me, I heard a million tears fall from your triggered body.

I don’t know and I probably won’t understand you. But I know that nobody puts a gun at his throat and expects to survive.

Give me the gun, and take my hands.
Dear Amanda

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
D. Niel Quchi
© 2020

Rape Rep

I represent the biggest scums of the century.
I represent one of the greatest threats to women globally.

Your body is already a beautiful battlefield. A rose with thorns torn apart by it’s blueprint. It is not enough that your body cries rose-coloured tears monthly, some members of my gender have turned your pores into drawers for stashing away years of frustration. Tiny portals of escape, from which they seek prison-breakthroughs. Scofielding along your orchards, fuelled by animalistic passions.

Do something
That’s what I’m trying to say
Show me I am worth the pain, give me hope to a fault; tell me life has a meaning

That’s what I read in your diary
I am what you blame for dying, greet
One of the biggest
scum in existence
Women, they fear me
My favourite victims
…Men mostly in prison.
I am traumatizing

We’ve got a new brand for the parents
Comes with the power to pay rent
Found out I am recycling
Let’s leave the topic quietly
I’ve come from an old day
People started that way
Ignoring any volition
But theirs, until…

Ice Nwa Ǹkwọ
Niel Quchi
© 2020

Lover

Your heart like an ember
I know you remember
The moments we shared and the lights that it rendered
The lilies we gathered
For your love was an anchor
It held us together
Even when I repelled and was attracted by doubt and depression

Your love is faith
It conceals the thoughts of my heart from the fatigues of unbelief
Your love is an ancient word, hidden in the bedrocks of my heart
Agape, a fruit Stemming forth from within
Being pruned carefully not considering any retardation to yield
Those lashes you took, for me
With a spear through your hips to spare this unfit
This is deep!
Chills through my body—you didn’t give in
You gave up when there was nothing worth fighting for
It’s finished, I mean I was finished
A recreated piece

Adethatwrites
© 2020

RESCUE

I found rags to cover up
I take the lonely road home
Trying to hold back tears
– Mum will be so angry –
I’m at the front door
And I can’t ring the doorbell
The door clicks open and Mum gasps
– What happened? –
– I don’t know –
I sob and drop to my knees
– Don’t worry honey, let me clean you up –
She picks me up and takes
Me to her bathroom, peels
The rags off me, picks out
The dying petals from my hair
And cleans off the ashes from
My body. She gently sponges
Me and shampoos my hair
I let out the tears
– I’m so sorry Mum –
– It’s okay honey, you’ll be fine –
I nod
– I love you, you know that right? –
I nod
When she is done, I look at
The bathroom mirror and touch
My face. I see the glow come into
My eyes, I smile and clean off my tears
– I love you –

IfiokAbasi Okop
© 2019

Heads

Heads of garments, heads of fruits, heads of people… Heads. Heads.

You can gaze upon my face all you want. But to have a look into my head, no you won’t.

Cause you can’t.

And You’ll never know the strings of vessels that work hand in hand with strands of ligaments to pull this through. You’ll never know the gaps that had to be filled with cartilage or red blood peels all to keep this up; this straight looking, up-faced, high standing figure called a head. You don’t know.

You don’t know what it takes to clean me up. Floss after floss of cotton balls dangling up down and across my pores in zig zag motions, all to clean me, wet, dull and clingy, sticking right up to me telling me how I’m a story without a clean stop when I’m bleeding. I wonder if you really know where I’m heading at cause you don’t know me. You don’t know what it feels like to be me.

That’s how you can sincerely look forward to appreciating me with nothing. You’re expecting me to continue to spring up all of a sudden, give a genuine laugh all the time all of a sudden, have many reasons to always sit up and think for you when you would have me sit up and think for you because you’re certain doing nothing is your part while all I must do is sit up and think for you. But you have not been sincere enough to genuinely follow up my system. Now you can’t back me up.

So you accuse me and abuse me, all rightly. You treat me lightly yet you expect me to perform brightly. You conjure up your own magic and yet you can’t spell me. When Paul said to pray for our leaders, he was not speaking Anti. In the spirit he was true and he was matter-of-factly. You know we…dress up our lives with Makeup and acting, yet actually we pretend to know what our leaders are really facing. Forgetting they also have faces and dresses to act in. Believe me…

You don’t know the heart of the matter until you’ve listened to its beat. You don’t know the stomach of the warrior until you’ve fed it. You don’t know the bone of contention until you’ve chewed on it. You don’t know the joke of the oesophagus until you’ve told it. You don’t know the favourite joint until you can beer it stretch. You don’t know your own guts until you’ve spilled it. You don’t know the skin of trouble until you’ve felt it. You don’t know the slippery nature of butter fingers until you’ve heat it. You don’t know how elastic your ribs are until you’ve cracked it.

And you don’t know the breath of his shoulders until you’ve cried on it, taking in deep breaths till you can measure it. So why are you waiting? We never measured up to this, this beautiful privilege of the Good News but, the good news is He is waiting to take our hands and comfort us and equip us beyond measure in the power of His Spirit.

So He sealed it. If you know it, you can live it and get it into your head.

©Doebi

2019

INTIMACY OF TRUTH

He asks why I shrink
My mind conjures letters into words
Envelopes but unable to post it
The inefficiency of the post office may misplace it
Misplace it with reactions from cross-purposes
For avoidable protocol of tracing words to letters I shrink

He says I should try him
But I know the end from the beginning
I am expected to be saintly
With perhaps a pardonable trace of sinfulness
Because he supposedly understands I’m human
I can’t determine which of my sinfulness he considers pardonable
So I don’t try him

I quiver at my imaginations
My mind is a roller coaster of horror
The gate of Hades
For his safety, there is no access
No actual intimacy
Let it be closed to family and friends
Entertaining guests will be at the veranda

The explosion of bodies in hot passion is still not intimacy without truth
He could recognize the members of my body in the dark;
Be familiar with the turns, corners
Nooks, crannies, depths and heights of my body
We could surf through a tsunami with goose pimples as evidence
And still not achieve intimacy

My hunger for intimacy deepens
I search and find the one able
To hear my filthy and wretched truth
The one who sees past my truth
And introduced his truth which is grace
Alas, I give up my keys and let him in
I let out fires I shamefully quenched
The intimacy of truth cannot be afforded by humans
But the one already paid

– ChyD
© 2019

WHAT YOU SEE

It is a fact that when you look Up to the sky
You will see a bird or a plane
But what really comes to mind, what would enters the brain
If you think fast like the Flash
Is a God who picked you from the trash; bin,

Loved you with all your Sin
His son took lash that scratched his back like heat rash
Took spears to his side so he could bleed your mind off its ignorance
Made you see his light that you can make a round about of your life

And despite all your hurt that might have cut you deep like a knife
Plus the strife you faced and falter,
He brings you grace and all your failures he can alter
Will Make your body his Altar as your sight is fixed on his Word

You will soar like that bird
Become Batman when everybody around you only see Bruce Wayne
Then you will understand your efforts without him are Vain
And your Success story you can attain
If you just stay on the same lane with him,
He will give you power like you just work out in the gym
Make you a Star in his block buster film
But if you fail,

Well,
Blame your Eyes
Maybe, just maybe it advised your Mind wrong
Sees Failure when all he says is you are a success
Called you cursed when all he says is you are bless
But then, you can address your case like he did on that cross
As he took away your failure so he could add a dress of grace to your suitcase
That your tongue will only talk of his goodness,

For that will be the testimony you will attest to
So the next time you see Temptation or trials
Just Set your Eyes on the Hill
Take in his word like prescription pill
Then Chill,
Because your help is also staring you back in the face

Isoje Victor
© 2019

Death and the Imago Dei

God says
I AM; space
shape-shifts on
His constancy
swinging and swerving in
and out, like flames
lit, waned, relit
by undying hands

Existence is
His filling , pouring
His infinite into
finiteness, a
creating, a
gaining fade, a death
process climaxed on
a Roman cross

His dying is living
life, is glorious
process played out
In moulding perfect
man, with His blood and body for
water and clay, art
and sacrifice, creation’s
true portrait

Ikenna Nwachukwu
© 2019