Drenched to the skin
Hopeless we look, half
buried in the mud
When will we get dried?
Maybe when the rain
stops
Dirty again, dirtier
than before
Who will wash us clean?
We are scattered
everywhere,
Flying about without
control
How do we find our way
back home?
We have been washed in a
faraway land
White, as white as they
are, we are now.
And our brothers who
remained
Are still wallowing in
the mud
Will this rain ever
stop?
Should I go back home or
remain here?
Here or there?
If I go, will I stop the
rain?
I can’t so, I will
remain here,
Lest I become drenched…
Another piece from the unpublished works of Oluwadamilola, a graduate of English from the University of Lagos.
‘Damilola loves writing,
reading, singing and cooking.
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