Once in a week I am born
Burst in like spring lilies
Slipped out of the womb
Like a frog escapes a wet palm
So short is my ecstasy
Wounded!! I begged to be healed

Once in a week I am healed
A frisky rainbow dodges
Out my lips edges
Rough, itchy and ugly
I could have been sick
This blurred thing brings me good

Once in a week I am Good
I try to avoid loud trite
I look on my neighbour with grace
When we go to heaven
We shall walk those flowery road
Plucking roses to bribe the angels

Once in a week I see a sad angel
That angel feeling unused
The soul it protects is now dead
It is boring to watch others act; How awkward!
But we see better when we are tired
Plastering in our eyes beauty

Once in a week I am beautiful
I dare to look inside
Every coin is tossed into furnishing my body
I walk magically; I smile likes its Christmas
My Joy is ephemeral; like waters on a hilltop
I made love to the Bad too bad

Once in a week I am sad
I clap the cheeks of my lad
It is either white or black
I starve the stomach of Grey-ness
It sinks me; brisk and brief
Not good! I end up dead

Once in a week I am dead
Each tiny fracture and feature
Shuts down until they reach benthic
Dying is new birth
Birth says we would die again
Our feet planted in the ice of earth soil

Once in a week I till the soil
Untiring and non-rejecting
Things start and end here
Things lift or drop here
Our stomach's bank
I resuscitate it even in winter

Once in a week it is winter
Dryness our dearest charm
Earnest wait for the first rain
Parched soil and vegetations
Stretching their mouth to catch it
Like a dog hunting lice in the dark

Once in a week it is dark
Enforcer of sleep
Beautifier of light
Light is only romantic in darkness
Light is brightest when it is darkest
Darkness calls me to rest

Once in a week I rest
My bones blow kisses at me
My spirit goes on its journey
Drinking by the brooks
My flesh fall like the butcher's cut
Its reassemble gets to work

Once in a week I work
I walk very late to work
Each day empty my heart; Yet I refuse to halt
Things do not fix themselves
I fix myself so I fix them
In despair I turn to the Divine

Once in a week I turn to the Divine
This security full of fine vine
A space diligently void of experiential
Hope springs and bones ring
Maybe it is mere satisfaction
But its effect makes me live

Once in a week I live
My tiny tree grows fresh leave
Here I am at my best
Hopping into destiny like the grasshopper
My strengths abound; giants
Once in a week!

Poet: Larry Onokpite.