The Irony of Prayer

(2024)

Whenever the sky unfolds into a new day, my tongue resurrects. 

Baba’s brass bell becomes the voice of God, a prelude to prayer. 

I open the day with mouthfuls of entreaties that may not end in amen, 

while listening to mahoganies rustle in the morning breeze. In our home,

God is synonymous with prayer. When I roll into the day, performing the ritual of life, 

I dare not bury God with silence. My mouth becomes soil sprouting Psalm 23:

I shall not want. When I dodge the evils that fly by day, I call it a miracle. Miracle means

an arrow that glided over me stabbed breath from another’s lungs. Grandpa prays, orí yín kò ní 

gbàbọ̀dè in Yoruba and we screech amen in English, a heavy prayer. Yesterday, a pastor’s son hugged dancing bullets on the highway.The news shook worshipers’ faith. God, are you there? 

Was faith lacking in his father’s prayer? We begged God to teach us the logic of prayer.