Oladejo Abdullah Feranmi
The Lord of the Getaway
And soon, you will get used to grief
like walking in the rain
feeling the threads dropping
and you, with a million hands
trying to tug on to everything
just to feel God at the other side.
To feel the holiness under your skin
and resonate it to something
like sinking in your bones
forming a ripple and then ripples
and soon enough you cannot float
except in something holy and light
and you make poems make you.
And you make them Be.
Make them into prayers tiny enough
they will sneak out of your throat
without you noticing. Wipe your tears
and wish all you want.
There are enough stars waiting on you
to become and see you through.