& I watched father unearth grief
& plant his brother
Whom a pellet kissed sweetly
On the left part of his chest
His sister kissed his cheek
And whispered
“finally I be stripped this burden”
And her nightmare carried her
on a beautiful dawn
Then my fore
of whom I only heard whispers
& my mama
Whose eyes have watered the earth
More than the rain of mercy
Laid her best wrapper upon the soil
& bit her tongue
Now, father’s haven
Is christened Golgotha
On remembrance
I swear I hear
The guttural shudder
Of one the world forbade to cry
As if this cross
Were not the path to death
I hear how prayers dance
To welkin
As though fervent chants
Might coax the earth
To vomit bones
Still wearing s(kins)
I,
Who have seen with one eye
This shape that gives life
And takes it
Saw this man
Whose teeth were sharper than pain
Gave more lives
Even though his skin
Is chiseled with the truth
They will be unalived
This is not about my father
This is about me
A child who watched grief raise me in love.
Gloria Ameh
Gloria Ameh is a writer and poet from Benue State, Nigeria. She writes to make sense of the unspoken, to hold on to fleeting moments, and to search for beauty in both the fragile and the ordinary. When she is not writing, she is reading, listening, or watching the world with quiet curiosity. Her work has appeared in Brittle Paper, Poetry Column NND, pawners paper and other magazines. She is also a proud member of the Hilltop Creative Arts Foundation.
