Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

all my bones remember, as if the memories are mine, as if we where there, at saint Dominic Yaba, as if we stood next to trees ripe with history, as if some of us knelt for a future that seemed impossible, as if others stood looking forward to a lifetime full of possibilities.

as if we saw papa and his thick black glasses edge his head to the side, as if we heard the photographer speak, as if he turned his gaze to the baby who didn’t have to speak, as if he knew with a name like Ikemefuna, his name is all we would need, his name bears witness, in these moments, for those who continue to walk where the skies are grey.

see how far those whom anger does not reach their soul have come. see as they still walk where the skies are grey. We have been thinking about what matters in the end. Not wealth, not fame, but only those who know the depths of your name. Keep them.