Poem: An Intercessory liturgy where a lover combats cold

 


[Image Description: Black and white photo of a black man. He has one of his hands behind his head and he is looking away from us defiantly. The photo has a pink and green glitch effect.]


Photo and poem by Psalmuel Benjamin

An Intercessory liturgy where a lover combats cold
For favour
Not this hour of 2. When a gentle tap Drums on my planked body in my Bed. Brother whispers to me, like the Discreet order of the night breeze– Swimming steadily behind our window, Of her over-the-phone-request to tell Me something. This time, my soul is as Vague as it used to be– when I used to Melt like the smoke of special spell in My lucid dream where her portrait would Flash through like lightnings and rainbows of scintillating thoughts. But Thoughts are masquerades here tonight. Maybe she wants to say a solemn "yes" One– uninterrupted by confusion like the Previous when we sat on a fence. Maybe The previous "no" was a mistake. Finally, The broken voice of an angel plummets Into my pina in injured interjections. Something like "Ri-g-our! Ri-g-our!... Owombe, please, pray for me" My slimming voice begins to break Supplication like a Praying-mantis– a Faith/ful declaration to a faithful friend– This fateful night. I drop the phone and Reach out to brother's palms for another Round of journey to the deity above the Heavenly bodies, beyond cosmos and Macrocosm. Tonguing in the dialect of the Celestial that the balm of Gilead be sent Through tranquillity. Let deep call unto Deep. Let divinity in brevity, fix humanity. With hopes that the warmth in The wings of God will r/o(u)b her of/f The vehement joggle of her blessed body And this tempest will ripple down– Fathoms beneath, at the sound of this Command– peace! Be still! The back door vomits me into the naked night and my phone chants worship lyrics Dogs begin barking. But I surge still, Until her father ushers me in with awe. The shiver had ceased and I say this Prayer is a successful pilgrimage to the Beyond and back. Whether or not love is The ship that sails this healing, I, now, do Not fear running into an open trap of the Children of the dark. Even if it means Death– homeward, I'd be glad that I put A miracle in the bank of her body before Being withdrawn into the bosom of God I glue my palm to my nose and soar high Home as the sweet smell of love has Nourished it when I put it on her warm Neck.


Psalmuel Benjamin wcfr. (Word Commander Of The Federal Republic) is a young Christian sentimental scribe of 22 years from Nigeria. He has written and published a whole lot of poems and other writings. EskimoPie mag, Lion and Lilac, Allegro, Shuf Poetry, Communicators' League, MixedMag, Nanty Greens, Kalahari Review, My Woven Words, Fieryscribe Review and others are places where you can find his works. Aside from writing, He draws, paints, teaches, edits videos, and designs graphics. He is the Vice President of the Godly Steps Family. He also made it to the 5th Stage of POF4 (Pen On Fire2021).

Say hi to him on Facebook: Benjamin-psalmuel Oluwasheun. 
Instagram: Psalmuel_benjamin
Twitter: Psalmuelbenjam1