for Uncle Lawrence
because you have invested
all of your time searching for an
accent to call on God with, that only him
understands – you empty yourself of words.
for there is no taste of prayer on your tongue
but you managed to unravel it like a gift something
that resembles the silence bury within your heart,
at night – when the moon sends the sun to bed.
every part of you keeps calling God with different
names like marketers begging a buyer.
in this poem, there is a black boy who wants
to survive this dew of pain falling
& wants for God to do with grief what ease does to pain,
what light does to darkness – to plant life
in a body that knows not how to live.
he moves beyond doubt & waits on God for an answer; faith.
this boy still sees his father counting his breath
& wants to learn how to peel sickness off his father’s skin
but there are small things that grow bigger than fish,
sharper than two edges sword & win the war against your body
he watched death whisper his father’s name & disguised
itself into his body.
Emmanuel G G Yamba is a Liberian and a graduate from the University of Liberia. His works has been featured and forthcoming in Africa Writer Magazine, TVO tribe, Salamender Ink, Odd Magazine, Kalahari Review, WSA, WWL and elsewhere.