An Emblem of Wounds by Henry Opeyemi | One Poem Only

A daily reading from One Poem Only—a quiet space for a single poem, read aloud.An Emblem of WoundsHenry OpeyemiWe are in the middle of a conversation, thereflection of our lives upon glossy waters.We’re twice the age we used to be, shadinghome into grief, into a childhood memory.there is an ophicleide infused in the distance ofsouls, singing into the littleness of a heaven: aprayer old enough for the heaviness I have carried.a boy from my childhood recognizes me by a face I no longer wear, by a stillness that was once a scream.My world is an open wound— a phoenix burning into an undying whistle of the wind. we’re betwixt awaging war, an emblem of songs profused into the flowering of roseash, aren’t we all a singing orchestrain heaven?& we won’t stop singing until the world ends in a poem, until immortality is an endless loop ofremembrance. We stood beside the black river, washing down black memories, memorizing the eulogy ofbrown gods, a drowning nestling through the theory of names. I looked into the memory, marinated forthe ashes that were burnt to be seen, nebulous as the clouds. syntax of broken bodies wrestling forwholeness,the world won’t end without us first knowing, and the wound won’t heal without the opening ofanother body.More from Henry Opeyemi ↓@henryopeyemi_ on InstagramSupport + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Poetry reminds us what matters. Thank you for listening.