In my homeland        it’s whoever preaches the gospel that die
    Yesterday        a pastor shouted of seeing death
                shimmering at him on the alter.
& minutes later, curtain drew and the congregation   
was seen
    mourning the demise
of    their        Shepherd.
                Not in my absence,
            did our Imaam said his last prayers on    Sajdah,
  but who are we to smuggle a life out
of death’s raunchy hands.

                                                                                                    Where we come from,
                                                                                                    Nights isn’t where to close minds,
                                                                                                    pillow heads and count stars.
                                                                                                    It is where dwellers bath in their
                                                                                                    sweat awaiting their end time.

Of other places, I do not know
what a night is. But here,
It is a reminisce of grief broad-day has
dawned upon us. Night is but a
betrayal that abhors our foes.

                                                                                                    See, in my country,
                                                                                                    every night is a candle night,
                                                                                                    On brethren’ faces, is a diluted look,
                                                                                                    heartfelt feelings, life’s been messy &
                                                                                                    it’s more grievous to be bereaved.

Here, night is the time we water our plants
at the graveside, we whisper dirges unto ’em.
Who says war is over in this land?
Every night here indicates doom.
Here, night isn’t what it is elsewhere.