CW: Death
I was burnt to ashes
by the golden ball [above.]
like a candle, I hawked fire.
my skin [even] melted in snow
as I bent my back to whips of rain
I spit to slap the sky [above my head]
but on my face landed the [white] foam.
I was crushed under cold hand of the moon
& war within my ribs drove
away appetite for pepper soup.
I was caught in cobwebs
[even] the earth preyed on me in prayer
& I merried in sorrow [full] tone
that I wouldn’t behold pleasure of
this unpleasurable world till I close
my eyes in dreamless sleep.
I buried my being by seashore
like a tree beheaded at midday,
I rouse from death [a spirit of blood & flesh.]
a rose plant grew from my grave
sending out scent like jasmine
preaching the gospel of my resurrection
from east to west & north to south
I’m dead [already,] I can’t die [again.]
Stephen Oladayo Oladokun is a writer, photographer and researcher from Nigeria whose works have appeared and forthcoming on Fly on the Wall Poetry, Pine Cone Review, The Shallow Tales Review, Fae Dreams Anthology, Corona Blue Anthology, Innseai Journal Issue, My Woven Words, PEN Nigeria, Melbourne Culture Corner Review and elsewhere. He is a member of Hilltop Creative Arts Foundation in Minna Niger State, Nigeria. He is on Instagram as Oracle_Voice and on Facebook and Twitter as @OraclesVoice1.