They faded away like shooting stars
And vanished to the paradise of ‘forever gone’,
Leaving behind a legacy
For chicks to uphold as they grow.
When night falls to rest,
And we answer calls of eager sleep.
Our beds console us
But our pregnant pillows bear witness
That our hearts are melted in sorrow.
They boldly whisper,
“The world is a wicked place.”
meet the poet: Moses Opara
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.