In the land that bleeds
we dare not ask the night for dreams
Dreams, here, are not berries because
They are not sweet, & many
We wake the dawn with worries of
What to eat, & what to be
Between us & dreams are a gun & a
Way of how to live dying
The law carries a gun, outlaws carry
A gun & we are the masses that
Carry the torn limbs
At times, when we seek refuge in our
Wives’ mountains of delight & pour
Our fears
We are afraid of begetting children
We may not be able to raise
If this land bleeds us out, some would
Paddle it to Europe, racing the desert
Like a dune
& many to become a morbid tale of
warning to those who would ply
this route again.
Babatunde Waliyullah Adesokan (Toonday)
writes from Oyo State, Nigeria. He works with Firstbank. He is a lover of poetry; a lover of everything that breathes poetry. His works appeared in Pangolin Review, Calamuss, The Quills, Wales Haiku, Ethel-Zine etc.
Twitter:@tunde_adesokan
Instagram: @toondayatkins
Facebook: tunde.w.adesokan
