Written by Mhraf Worku
——-the frankincense burnt.
the priests, with my Grandfather’s God heavy on their shoulders,
bent, and wafted the smoke amongst those of us
on our knees.
——–there are three, my grandfather had told my mother
——–who had then told me:
——–the Father, The Son and the Holy Spirit.
somewhere in the vast sky,
father and son waited
and somewhere in between the gliding smoke
the spirit existed.
———the frankincense burnt.
& when the suffocating sweetness of the smoke
sensually glided into my nose, grasping me hard by
—–it must be God, I thought.
—-the frankincense burnt.
& all over me were necks bent,
heads full of black hair covered
in white paint.
& as the smoke burnt, stinging my eyes
i closed my eyes,
—-and prayed to a God that was not mine.
Artwork by Paul Gauguin, “Vision after the Sermon” 1888