Author : Debby Keys

Dear Goodluck, “This house is not for sale” is a familiar sign that would meet you. Painted in scary, reckless red. Native houses of large roofs and small buildings laced on the streets. Young men sipping alcohol in sachets. Because better small than nothing. The market women have their songs......

My watch speaks. 2am. Each hour is a long, dreary year. I am leaning to trace the pain of imperfect glasses. I am shutting my eyes in painful memories to recall the bullets that tore at our dreams. Opened deep wells to our Promises. Boro, Theo, other Political Fathers are......

Mother, where is salvation in the books? Peter? John? James? A king rode on a donkey in a shower of praise. And died in a cacophony of hate. “Kill him” Where is the salvation in the verses? The ryhmes that promised healing. The dark scarlet of the wine is on......

I am neither a Samaritan or a Jew. I can neither claim the glory of the rejected, nor he pride of the chosen. I am watching the grace of a man, the maps of glory. And a woman clothed in shame, the bath of iniquity. The prophecies that play on......

Hold my hand and lead me through this path Compel me with your eyes as I wonder about these emotions Like Wild horses on the run, I put a rein to them Amidst all these, my hands are so unsteady In quiet and still night, you whisper my name Through......

She falls to ground,but she does it slowly and calmly. She stares at the open space as if concentrating on a beautiful but complex painting. Her slender hands reach her hair as she ruffles it, the result is a scattered hair. Tears begin to well up in her eyes and......

You clutch the clothes to your skin Cold Nostalgia chills you to the bones You walked away again This time the mallet had hit the wood Uncontrollable tears walk freely down your skin Regret and pain are folded around your bossom As you nod painfully Your thoughts take a walk......