Try counting the stars on this starry night.

You might fail or sleep.

Write those love letters to no one.

With full rhymes and burning letters.

Listen to the hum of the earth, the murmur of your heart.

The verses of old are gold.

The lyrics of love, soaring happiness, grey childhood.


Of how babies are formed, how you used to glow.

With magic on Sunday mornings.

Before you stripped yourself of kindness and went to a lone war.

Before the ashes came and clouded the lamps.


Of your mothers- Buchi, Maya, Sofola, Mabel.

Of the struggles and wins that we may never see or feel.

You might be, you might fail.


Of the past years, how you laid withering-

the Earth’s last breath.

How you whispered in empty halls shivering away Life.

How you cowered in fear and did not spell your name.


From the lingering pain and choking guilt.

From torn diaries and empty love.


That you are the stories of a lifetime.

Tell it.


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