Portrait of a boy, seeking faith.
i carve a white bird in my heart
& i crave for realism.
last week, the parson preached
faith & love like two inevitable
element to birth realism.
i swear, i lack the faith he preached.
sometimes, i wonder why everything
requires faith from my hand, like
Ifa asking for sacrifice to wash the drats
dappling a metropolis.
last month, my mother was sick & the
pastor ask if i have faith. as though
my faith is a prerequisite for her healing.
he said, lay your hands everyday on her
for five days.
but instead, her sickness blossoms, flowered
her holistic body.
day before yesterday was new year eve,
& i pray that my doubt is crucify; that
God should help my unbelief. i hope my
unbelief doesn’t open his peacock thistles
& shroud my prayers.
Olayioye Paul Bamidele is a writer and a student of mass communication. His works have appeared or forthcoming in SpillWord, Lunaris, Artlounge, Afreecan, and elsewhere
