The earth is another hungry god.
Tonight we lost the world.
And I tell mother that we might just grow into lost things.
For we were creating more spaces on the earth's belly.
I asked her what part of the sea could I harvest my Father.
That the top was filled with microbes, the belly with junk and the bottom held bodies.
No one ever tells you that the earth is another hungry god, one that forgets to warn Noah.
But till we understand that the sea is a testament to our sins, we cannot call this war over.
The last time I saw a cloud,
it was just a body among other drowning bodies with too many bodies inside it.
Forgive me, but this is not the place I want my children to live.
For I fear that just like my Father, they too may morph into lost things.
I worship grief.
In this poem, I am trying not to trade my body for the emptiness it carries.
Trying to mould myself out of this brokenness.
I swear, I have tried not to be like my country.
My body is a broken vessel too scattered for light.
So the night keeps rolling me in - a daily ritual.
I am a devotee to this grief.
A barren ground where dreams can never grow.
Still!. I believe that this flower is too tender for this.
I do not wish to carry so much burden.
God! Please save me.
Sa'ada Isa Yahaya is fifteen years old and currently resides in Abuja, Nigeria.
"Grief" by cathy_baird is licensed under CC BY 2.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/?ref=openverse.
