AUGUST AND NOVEMBER
Early this morning
You thought about how rain rhymes with pain
And judged your skills by the colour of your skin
- You are a selfish farmer:
You planted maize and thought of harvesting melons.
- Last night you slept early. I woke you up at midnight to count the stars
But you kept dreaming
Your father died thinking about the child in your mother’s belly.
“Why is my father’s house not yet complete?”
There’s an answer dying in your mind.
Poem © Okeke Onyedika Prezide
Image: Rose Erkul via Unsplash