I don’t know any Ibibio poet who owns a rabbit so I became one.
I tie a bell to her neck and name her Idioñ, deity in Ibibio.
Her fur is manehard and stainless like Anansa Ikañ Obutọñ’s in full bloom.
I don’t feed her carrots, I feed her elephant grass – she’s a goddess.
At dawn, she watches the river mist rise,
ears twitching at the silent voices only she hears.
The elders say spirits favor small bodies,
that power wears a soft skin so no one sees it coming.
She does not flinch at the shadow of the hawk.
She does not run when the dogs bare their teeth.
She knows what they do not –
a goddess need not be large to be feared.
At night, I hear her whispers beneath the moon.
Not a prayer, not a plea – just the low hum of omnipresence.
A name older than my father’s father’s father.
A secret the folktales never told.
Somewhere in the village, a child falls sick.
The priestess says the gods are restless.
I find Idioñ staring at me through the bed slats,
her eyes black like river stones, like bottomless grief.
I open the door. I let her out.
Not because I am kind, but because I am afraid.
A goddess shall not live in a cage.
*Anansa Ikañ Obutọñ is an Efik goddess of the Obutong people of Big Qua Town, Calabar.
Felix Eshiet is a Nigerian writer and Efik-Ibibio poet. His debut poetry chapbook Never Look a God in the Eye is set for publication in 2026. His works appear or are forthcoming in Chestnut, The Madrid Review, Afritondo, Kalahari Review, Paraselene, Ink in Thirds, The Crossroads Review, African Writer Magazine, Fiction Niche, Luminary Lines, Afrocritik, Akpata, Afrihill Press, Stripes Magazine and elsewhere. Felix was longlisted for the Wale Okediran National Poetry Prize, 2025.
