Iyovi: Godless

And for the first time in twenty years, I sang.

They say a godless woman is a hollow drum. No spirit to move through her. No song. godless iyovi

The Godless Testament of Iyovi

It lives in the space where nothing answers—and you speak anyway. And for the first time in twenty years, I sang

I opened my mouth.

In the village of my mothers, a name is a covenant. Iyovi —the one who walks between the rains. A child of blessing, a keeper of thresholds. But I broke the covenant long before I understood its words. No song

But last night, a storm came. Lightning split the baobab where the altar once stood. And as the rain washed the ash into the earth, I heard something—not a prayer, not a command. A sound like the first breath before language.