Absolution Poem by Ekenedilichukwu Ubah

What name do you call fire
Mixed with blood, the blackness of it all?
Even the tongue cannot dance to the drab music
Of silence;
Sometimes the body accept what it is given as divine act of
Protest - or the undressing of grief - as though we are broken
By God himself, who's waiting to brew this day,
This body, of ours into something as dark and plain
As an untouched moon.
There, we pray to be seen as prayers reversed into
An open Mouth.