We Forced Mother To Say The Name Of God Before She Died by Aremu Adams Adebisi
Angels were on break that night where we all gathered in a room. Fears were attributes of sorrows, our hearts beating in funerals, awaiting her grave, and if unlucky that she should become grains in the wind. Heaven watched on as a lone dugout, time was a young girl who never grew. The clock chimed in barrels of gloom, descending on us like falling mist. We asked for safety. We churched, shrined, and tekbir-ed, we combined all the names of God, and hoped one would tickle him, and the angels would come rushing like flowers in her mouth, and Noah would build a new ark where the unfaithful do not have to perish in the flood. My atheist mother died in her curse that night, and it became manifest how Pharaoh's redemption was wrung from his tongue by an angel at the sea; how God gets angry when he is made the last resort, or when it seems the infidels want to steal from him.
84 City Brink
