substance of things hoped for

‘ … is the substance of things hoped for,
and the evidence of things not seen.’ — Hebrew 11:1

A dove weeps on my sill,+++++with broken beak &
tattered feathers, & my pane leaks an unending song.
The remnant of everything once living in me is there,
in earth’s belly,+++++lingering in a coffin’s mouth,+++++embalming the cold body
I used to call mother.+++++Her soul deserted her.+++++& dad again
became my greatest fear –a brown teeth holding the palm of a cigarette,
with a bottle of stout,+++++and swollen red eyes leaking tears–+++++an embodiment of grief.
I try not to think of the pieces of fear scribbling
dead things in my dreams, like those dry bones Elijah brought back to life;
for I slept yesterday, and my hopes didn’t wake this morning/
rather I found their remains in the mouth of a country.
& like that corpse buried in our backyard, I stand still before this poem
trying to figure out why grief always chokes its fingers into every metaphor I
sprinkle on each line.+++++not even hyperbole, for grief itself is another way to
exaggerate loss. & in my country, peace is the substance of things hoped for,
but loss is the evidence of things not seen.

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Poem: Wisdom Adediji
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