To drown the devil, the girl is lowered into a pool of water.
When she is pulled out, her hair quickly cascades—a pair of
waterfalls rolling down each shoulder. & as her eyes open,
she confesses to the priest; Baba, I felt angels sanctify my soul.
I begin to wonder the anomaly in my immersion. When the
water touched my body, I swear, it was just water. Even as
the oil drew a crucifix on my skin, no spectre was blazed by
the holy grease. I do not confess this lack. I stay silent as silk.
Yet all the clergy break into glee, my ears servile to a waste
of hallelujah. I want to say, it is not healing if nothing alters
in the plagued, that all the demons they think are dead only
sleep. Still, I resist vowelling my truth. I know that I am not
permeable to miracle, but I must keep on following the lie;
that I am void of the spirits persecuting my peace. Or is this
not what our elders preach? Brethren, do not be deceived—
depression is but a spirit of Satan. Why then will it surprise
me, that when I ask my people for therapy, I awaken before
the feet of an exorcist?
Samuel A. Adeyemi is a young writer from Nigeria. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Palette Poetry, Frontier Poetry, 580 Split, Blue Marble Review, Leavings Lit Mag, Kissing Dynamite, The Shore, Jalada, and elsewhere. When he is not writing, he enjoys watching anime and listening to a variety of music. You may reach him on Twitter and Instagram @samuelpoetry
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