AUGUST AND NOVEMBER
Early this morning
You thought about how rain rhymes with pain
And judged your skills by the colour of your skin
- You are a selfish farmer:
You planted maize and thought of harvesting melons.
- Last night you slept early. I woke you up at midnight to count the stars
But you kept dreaming
You said:
Your father died thinking about the child in your mother’s belly.
“Why is my father’s house not yet complete?”
There’s an answer dying in your mind.
Rise!
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Poem © Okeke Onyedika Prezide
Image: Rose Erkul via Unsplash