[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Being withdrawn into the bosom of God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