By Emmanuel Uchendu-Onu for Invisiblites
We gathered around the body of the dying boy.
His ribs protruded, his stomach seemed too large,
his arms and feet too little, an anomaly.
Perhaps we could throw some bread to this dying boy,
but why should we?
Instead, we wondered; “where was his Merciful God?”
Was he not also watching this dying boy?
Did he not care for this dying boy?
Would he not spare manna for this dying boy?
And so we stood, hating God.
Why would he not stop this suffering?
Would he not accept this boy's offering?
Would he not give us a new song to sing?
Was he not real? Perhaps we were the ones who created him.
The boy did not understand our concerns,
all he could see was the bread in our hands.
So to him, his God had answered him,
but our bread was not for him.
We made way for the vultures to descend on him,
and watched as they made a feast of him.
We stood in the dark and slandered God
But into the light, the boy ran to him.
He heard God laugh as he sang to him.
With new arms now he danced with him.
His only regret was that he held on too long to a life
that was not meant for him.
It took him too long to look at his God,
It took him too long to return to him.
Emmanuel Uchendu-Onu is a Nigerian writer, poet, and editor. He holds an LL.B and has worked as a ghostwriter for several years. His interests include historical fiction and narratives that engage with culture, identity, and power. His works appear in Loun loun journal, and Yarnz magazine. He was shortlisted for the maiden edition of the Sande Poetry Prize.