a flailing child
knows the gift of noise
when water 
gobbles up his screams.
faith looses its grip; snagged on ropes of
morality, and
God is known as
the face that always
turns away.
silence teaches this
child of Mangrove forests, how to
die like an African:
without a word.
show me the black lip
that flutters against the stab wounds
caressing its back,
and there’s his name on the
metal skin of a bullet,
written in calligraphy.
mother taught me how to
sew caution through the seams of
my lips.
how to, quieten my thirst
for justice.
to live with my teeth clenched,
to hoard discontent,
to bear my hurts
within my swollen belly,
stoically.
now my hair turns grey, and
my skin twists on itself, teeth falling off; and
it is easy to note how
silence eats me up.
Jeremiah Christopher
is a poet, creative writer, spoken word artist, and art enthusiast. His poem “Sands” has been published in The Fiction Niche magazine, and he has been featured in two spoken word tracks, and also has a track to his name. He spends his free time writing, reading or playing the piano.
