Mask Poem by Echezonachukwu Nduka
Mask
Days are normal
that see brothers
and sisters walking in twos and threes,
sharing tracts like gifts
and receiving nods in return.
Morning bears witness
to godly gestures, preachments
and unwilling melodies forced
into submission.
Night cries of beds
creaking to glossolalia,
cries of Peter’s fresh denial
and Thomas’s second doubt.
Tomorrow is another day of rest
We will be in church again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 2:50:26 PM # 1.0.0.1119
