By Owolusi Lucky
Behind cathedral windows, sun bends its will.
Gather here, walk briskly the holy steps.
The huge walls betrays the sun, oily gauche,
Dripping candles painting shadows that bend
To kiss the foot of the pews.
Bow your head here, whisper there,
Hold the carcass of beads, hold it like pieta,
Burn tears in incense, raise head now.
The paintings are shameless; they pose not for moon,
Or sun, but mothers carrying tiny mirrors,
To be washed holy.
The candles are blameless, they are orphans
On holy duty, soldering against wind and
Eternal foe that swallows light.
Bend, walk back, and look up to the sun on the Son.
The walls, ignore them they know our stories,
Long smoothened by hands that rubbed in silence,
In thirst for forgiveness.
Hands that shake in nimbleness, in humbleness.
This silence is holy sarcophagus, it shields rot
Stay longer, stand, and hold the present like a shield
Past arrows can penetrate this bricks.
The patterns are comforting, the air sacred,
Wolves awaits at the door, walk, head raised,
They will see your eyes are mirrors,
They hate their reflection, they will run.
Hush, wear the silence, breath it in, walk on.
Owolusi Lucky like other Nigerians does lot of things: Teaching, Painting, programming, and writing. He has published poetry, short fictions and essays in anthologies, magazines, and journals. He believes in meditation, and explores humanity in his writing. He has work forthcoming at Whitewall Review, Erato Magazine, Deracine Magazine and others.
