the heavens once your haven —
an evergreen against the winter’s white teeth,
your safe space. the mark of grace fixed to your forehead
even in your darkest hour.
still, you consumed doubt
rationed for the weary & fading
the rhetoric of rotted fanatics betraying your impotence —
& each time you wept the earth released its fire.
remember the faith of the saved?
they were no better for it. they, too, looked back
& became salt for god’s tears. this proves that
charming a god’s name in vain will get you killed.
for an eye.
plunged into the swampy steam of desire —
pounding the earth’s pleasures & its proselytizers
skeptical of their own skin, stifled
by the soot of disbelief. intrigued by their discontent.
patience require but time &
o, fallen one,
there is a land that is fairer than fair. scrape for it
from the smoke of god’s breath at night. cover the flesh wound.
nothing lasts forever.
.chisaraokwu. (she/her) is a first-generation American Igbo poet, actor & healthcare futurist. Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals including Obsidian, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Midnight & Indigo, Cider Press Review, & Tinderbox Poetry. Her art explores the intersection of myth, religion, politics and gendered trauma within the "black" femme experience. @chisaraasomugha