Experiencing Grief Amidst Aliens

                           in a new universe in october 79AD

when the world was coloured with darkness

in a city of void and emptiness

where aliens were the citizens

and humans were slaves              where ghosts went

to live for another millennia            

i wore grief 

upon my skin                                     like a cardigan 

and stood at the threshold that led to the gates of heaven 

i put my body inside a bowl of sorrow 

                    as if it was a shelter.                   because 

                                                 where i come from

pain is a prerequisite 

for staying alive. pain is the nutrients you are forced 

to swallow for your sorrow to develop. 

i saw aliens roaming about like fish. i was dumb to 

their language. my eardrums opened

but were still deaf. i saw my creator who reigned in every land. 

on one sunday morning,                      in a land called 

the land of aliens,                    before my creator, 

whose body held blood like a lipstick, 

whose head stood narrow like a kite,         

i laid naked before him,  a lizard before a mountain of grief,               

tears sojourning my flesh.              

i put my skeleton on its kneel and wore it 

a brown garment                                    of humility. 

its mouth 

pouted                 the mouth of an ostrich.           

                            its long tiny hands 

                                                         s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g 

like the body of a raindrop. all the grief i had experienced

kept calling my breath. 

                                     i threw my palms to my creator 

and asked him to protect me                      from the fingers

of my country; to release my breath from its hungry incisors. 

       while waiting for my creator to pronounce me 

a free bird, i saw my country running towards my body                  

                 i hid my body in the flesh of my skeleton 

and disguised it            as a bone.          because 

aliens’ bodies are bony, i pretended to be one of them.              

i zipped down my heart like a torn flesh 

and grief entered it                      like a capsule,             

grief walked through the streets of my body like an angel, 

                                                        dismantling my skeleton 

and remoulding my strength. because 

aliens are faithful beings

                                           i was successful        at hiding. 

how will i hide again on earth 

where men gulp blood           like the throat of my country?

Ayòdéjì Israel, a poet, writer and editor, is a Pushcart Prize nominee. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Channel Magazine, Apparition Lit, Counterclock, Ake Review, Defunct Magazine, OneArtPoetry, Bacopa Literary Review, Sandy River Review, Whale Road Review, The Deadlands, The Bitchin Kitsch & elsewhere. You can find him on Twitter @Ayo_einstein.

 

Photo by Joyce Hankins on Unsplash

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