Black Christian Mind

Devil’s Musicby Sabrina Dawkins I judge the worth of what I consume by how it changes me internally.Audible trauma: bangs, booms of relentless bass pushed me down to a dungeon in my stomach. Didn’t know hell could be reached while alive. My soul lives in forehead, then neck, then chest, then slides down to navel;with

The Antifatherby Sabrina Dawkins “What’s your name?” he asked.“He’s the same,” I thought.Beer smokes off clothes into air. He waited till sun started sinking to ask. No light to expose wrinkles. “Where you from?” he askedas he creeped towards mecomforted by the sheet of dim. No wisdom in his hands, nor hello to a friend.

Churchby Sabrina Dawkins You are mocked, church-goer.Benchwarmer, Holy Spirit is not there.You are mocked, tither.Offering plate-filler, Holy Spirit is not there. Whatever became of “still small voice”that said, “What doest thou here, Elijah?” Church is an open book,turned to page last left off, so digest the word as did Ezekiel. What’s sweeter to ear,is it

A Dangerous Gameby Sabrina Dawkins Fashionable and tight, clothes hugging me as if before a long goodbyefrom long-distance friend. Give part of paycheckto fill upwith throbbing rhythmvibrating my bones. Put me in a sweet trance. There with two friends.But do they know we are foes?If he approaches her first, it’s war. Clothing to hug in

Disposableby Sabrina Dawkins The jungle is lonely.My enemy is green foliagehiding predator beasts from my sight. I thought they were like me. How could they not be like me?The jungle teaches there’s predator or prey. But they aren’t naked,making strange noises in the distance. Sometimes they even wear suits, ties, slacks,perfume to mask the animal

Fiction’s Waking Dream by Sabrina Dawkins 6:00 a.m. brings abrupt screeching blast piercing night like surgeon’s knife. And I can’t locate pain as I recover from anesthesia, but I know it lurks. Where should I assign pain, to ears? But hands never covered themto muffle the noise.And smooth darkness shielded eyes that sprung open shocked.

How Faith Worksby Sabrina Dawkins Suspended in nothing, darkness approaches as a boundless flood. Then still small voice glides towards me atoprestless waves of despair, a fearless ghost, it seems, but I can’t be sure. It will keep me afloat if only I trust. Elijah must remember to trust voice now inside.Peter would not sink

Basketball Rivalby Sabrina Dawkins I have to win. 700 shots a day.When wrist gets sore, stop at 400. My nemesis probably shoots 1,000.I’m working up to it. Him, I must destroy. We are at war.Come game day, he’ll reach me his hand,but I will ignore. No desire to befriend.We are enemies; he must not realize.He

Malcolm X, a Prophet and More by Sabrina Dawkins The Bible says there was a warand by the blood of the Lambthe saints defeated Satan, and by their testimony, and that they were unafraid of death. At the end of his autobiography, Malcolm X hoped that “it might prove to be a testimony of some

Moses Hoganby Sabrina Dawkins Sleepy-eyed at the dashboardof a smooth dark massthat had, perhaps, at one time, been whipped‘til skin rose to lessen the distance the weapon traveled—smart skin. A choral convention is no placefor the living dead, I thought. The words that waltzedto fruition from this curious shape planted before hundredswere like the chants