She was never late to the cathedral
No one noticed her withdrawal
Her knees were sore because she knelt
Before the Christ statue and wept

His dear life she prayed to redeem
There was no one to help, no money for feeding
A good life was what she dreamt
She worked endlessly, cleaned, washed, swept

But he never got better
No friends to comfort her
It was just her and papa
Always has been since the death of mama

The day he died,
She went to the statue but never cried
Simply prayed for forgiveness then
Put a bullet through her head

The priest came out with the gun sound
A dead girl was what he found
He thought quickly thought of where to hide the body
So that the offerings would keep rolling in.

About the author



By clarajack


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Pencilmarks and Scribbles Magazine was founded in 2017 by Clara Jack to be a home for African writers, asking them to come as they are and giving them room for growth. The publication aims to give back to the Nigerian Literary scene for the things it has given us.