Volume 4, No. 3
These two poems by Abraham Aondoana give us permission to wrestle with both faith and doubt.
Altars in the Alley
by Abraham Aondoana
I have known altars in by-ways, candles smashed like rotten teeth, prayers written on pieces of paper, and wondered if God listens better to broken things. The preacher's voice tells me what to believe, the stained glass shows me what to want, but the alley hums with something older, something patient sufficient to permit inquiries on my part. without judgment. Maybe faith is not a building, not a uniform chant, not a spotless hymn. Or perhaps it is the dirt under our feet, the ache of wonder in our ribs, the courage to touch mystery without permission.
Confessions in the Night Market
by Abraham Aondoana
I confess in the night market between the stalls of the spices and neon lights: I do not know what I believe, and yet, somehow, I feel holy. The incense winds about my suspicions, the street sellers preach like prophets. trying to sell salvation in packs of oranges and garlic. I taste something sacred in the mundane, the unpolished, the passing glimpse of the hands of strangers. passing coins for bread. Maybe God is here, between the noise, the neon, the small gestures that keep us human long after sermons end.
About the Author
Abraham Aondoana is a writer, poet and novelist. His works has been published in Kalahari Review, Prosetrics Magazine, Rough Diamond Poetry, The Cat Poetry Anthology, IHTOV, The Literary Nest, Ink Sweat and Tears (UK), Rogue Agent, Ink in Third Magazine, Interwoven Anthology (Renard Press), Speculative Insights and elsewhere.