In the beginning we prayed the sun would shine
And that we would have butter for tomorrow's bread
And that kings would call us on our phones
And then we prayed for our families and for our friends
And for the meeting with the boss
At 10am tomorrow.

Later we walked through the back gate
Of the  petrol station that led us to the market
This time we prayed for enough money to buy stock fish
and the new maggi flavor they talked about on TV
But despite the fumes from the noisy generator outside,
8.30pm's dinner we would enjoy

Wasn't it the other day we prayed for lamb
and more soup when the bike hit you
and we could barely afford a cab to take us back home?
Quickly buying balm from the kiosk beside George's,
Asking God why again,  we prayed for a car.
Taxis don't enter after 10pm.

So from that day, we dreaded the gates
between the station and ojodu market
We looked beyond the skies when it rained
Soaking our sunday best. She hissed
And I made excuses, "Maybe God wants to tell us
That this time tomorrow, we will tell a story"
10pm tomorrow?

Heaven 's giant gates opened
Yes, slowly. Those everlasting gates did open
They did open to our hearts
But ours were shut.

Who knew when?