Communion by Loic Ekinga

Loic Ekinga | February 27th, 2022 | poetry | No Comments


When I was a child and in communion with the earth, I used dirt to stop myself from bleeding

and watched it turn to clay, a red —sometimes black— hardening, proof of a creation
Of some sort. a pulsing existence, waltzing sands inside my veins, to the rhythm of my tribesmen drum

When I was child, I also believed that God must be made of oceans of blood to have created so many people
I still think that He poured Himself out on that sixth day, that every white and red cell in His blood made the stars, That on the seventh day, He bled out and died
(The lamb that was slain to give me life)

I am a man today, trying to follow good examples To learn how to let love swallow me whole
Yesterday I showed so much kindness to a spider before it poked a hole in my body
& I took its life. I’m drifting away from God I’m vomiting so much chewed bread and red wine

Poet Bio

Loic Ekinga is a Congolese writer and screenwriting enthusiast. He is the author of the poetry chapbook How To Wake A Butterfly, published by Odyssey Books. His works of fiction and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in Type/Cast Magazine, Ja. Magazine, Poetry Potion, A Long House and Kalahari Review. His experimental mini chapbook Twelve Things You Failed at As A Man Today was an honourable mention by JK Anowe for Praxis Magazine Online. In addition, his short story ‘Loop’ has been adapted into a short film by Vivanation. He is a finalist of Poetry Africa’s Slam Jam competition 2020 and the Fiction Editor for TVO TRIBE

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