We see bullets of different shapes,
houses without walls, streets bereft
of feet, trees burdened with swollen
bodies, a field of corpses. bedsheets
stained with blood of those whose
spirits roam in the air.

What we see

What we see


We see the sky garnished with darkness,
children calling their parents’ names
with tears dotting their faces.
We see the holes in the moon,
the dirges in the songs of the
birds that howl as we leave to
mourn our beloveds.




About the Author

Rasaq Malik is a graduate of the University of Ibadan. His poems have appeared in online literary journals and magazines. He is presently awaiting the publication of his debut poetry collection.




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