image source: pixabay.com

THEY ARE NOTHING TO US

 

They were missing
When our mission was fragile on the soil, land and clouds as far as the eyes could see
They were hissing
When our vision brought pains like boils, we strayed like floating wreckage on the sea

We were wishing
That our wounds would turn to scars
We saw promises and lies like identical twins
Pain and shame clung to us like a second skin

We were fishing
Like despised slaves wishing for the stars, hiding our usual painful wince
We are winning
Our roots go deep in the times of drought, as plants that shame the salt land

We are living
Like a platform in the midst of a crowd
Our help comes from strong hands

 
 

Feyisayo Anjorin
is a filmmaker and a writer. He is the author of the novel Kasali’s Africa and novella The Night My Dead Girlfriend Called. Feyisayo writes from Akure, Nigeria.

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