All will be over, and we will go out to play like we used to do in the town square, under the big baobab tree where the nocturnal birds sing that melodious song.
We shall count the fireflies as they fly over our heads to escape  the hungry lizards..
I will tell you stories about my childhood, how it all started with a boy barefooted in the sands of Abuta. That boy with a torn shorts and empty stomach in the class.
I will tell you stories about how we used to roast corn and keep it in our school bag waiting for the bell to be rang for break.
How we used to go for hunting with our caltapults in the thicket to hunt for birds and mice. How we aimed at ripped mangoes at Ashaakooko. How we run away from the owners and sometimes how we got beaten by some Busanga guys.
I will tell you stories, stories that my father told me about my father's father.
But now, outside is not safe, so lets stay home and safe. Together, we shall win this war.
StoptheSpread

Little white bird inscribed in a blue sky
Daily tweets

White circle inscribed in a square, instant frames, magenta stories

White’n blue, face in a book
What’s on your mind

Pure black ink, on a white page
Thoughts and words

return
this feeling
you did not want;
this feeling
that was once mine,
deformed over time;
this feeling,
warped and wrecked,
this feeling,
stomped and threaded;
this feeling,
has no cure,
this feeling,
it hurts for sure.