I can’t think straight, I don’t understand this hate
My hands are shaking, my legs are wobbling
What should I be doing, before it’s too late?
What will be our fate?
What’s happening. What does this killing mean?
What is their aim? What does this burning teach?
People are dying, where will all this lead?
Just yesterday I heard a picture screaming loud
From miles away I heard what the rescue teams never heard:
”Why? Why am I here?
Why won’t I say goodbye to my little girl,Who will deliver the gift that’s now a heap of ash?
Why won’t my baby see her dad again?
What’s my wrong?”
The picture demanded from a confused me
Wanting answers from my crying heart
But I don’t have one
Could I ask the bomb why it exploded?
Or the bullet why it is so cruel?
So if ask I you here and you over there
So you’d ask him, and he them
When we know why Boko is Haram
Maybe then, just maybe
This picture may haunt me not
Written by: Kehinde Fatai
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.