I Drew A Picture Of God Today. Poem by Frankline Shem O.

By: Frankline Shem O.

I drew a picture of God today
but the crayons broke—
like Mama's body did
when the wall gave out.

Red went missing.
So I used blood.

I sleep with one eye open
and the other still stuck
in a year that hasn't ended.

Papa says we're still lucky.
Lucky means no legs, but alive.
Lucky means sharing that single rat
among ten people
just to last the next three days.

My sister used to sing.
Now she counts bombs like sheep
and still wakes up screaming.

Mama says don't say 'bomb, '
say firebirds.

Today I stepped on a doll's head—
thought it was a mine.
Laughed too hard,
swallowed the scream.

It's strange how your stomach forgets
you're starving.

Mama said the neighbours' baby stopped breathing.
They wrapped her in a curtain
and buried her behind the church
that forgot how to pray.

I used to draw trees.
Now I draw shadows.
They last longer.
They don't burn.

A man came yesterday
with biscuits and cameras.
Said I was brave
for not crying
when my school became dust.

Asked me to smile—
with my war-teeth.

But I do cry.
Into the floorboards,
where prayers rot.

Even God turned His face.
I know—
because I drew Him crying too.