The rustle in ’03
was kinder than tonight’s
Yet it pulled all the names of God
From my a mother’s throat
Begging it to let her son live again
That day, it was the little grief
That waited upon the wails of its fauthful
To become God.
My father didn’t live He became God.
To invent God,
All you need is a load of silence.
His name now bears punctuations
In between each damned syllables
A sigh first and then an angry moan.
Silence – Prefix
Suffix – Silence.
His name became silence
Something too heavy for our lips
Ogunkoya Samuel is a Nigerian physiotherapist. His poems have been published and forthcoming in AfricanWriter, Kalahari Review, Best New African Poets anthology 2017 and Barking sycamores. He writes from Ile-Ife.