CW: war, mass death     

 O, give thanks unto the Lord, for he is             

            good: for his mercies endureth forever

                  — psalm 107 vs 1

& when another day finds you breathing in this country, you must stay away from danger, from the open, from corners where black men in uniform glimmer before a bullet hoists you into oblivion. At the sound of a gun, I outpace the air to stumble into safety. This is how I say my country won't kill me prematurely, this is how I say the universe won't gather & mourn me. Mother says wà dèlé layó, Ò ni kú ìkú ójíjí, you'll arrive home safe, you won't die a sudden death. Prayer to ward off the evil lurking outside.

I wish the youths in my country to usurp & fill into positions. But a country knows no youth when they're gunned down like zombies. Here, bullets come disguised as rain dropping on you. Run or you might be the next breaking news. Tell me, how do I live in a country rifling fire into bodies? We say,  welcome to a new dispensation at the successful exit from the borderline. I heap my backpack & think of all the places thinned of chaos & with no resemblance of home. 

I wake doused in trepidation, after dreaming of my body roaming in another country. I sleep back, avoiding the open. A blare of bullets sings outside.