When a soul dies, its body 
is said to be buried beneath ground &
farewell shall be done. but, how do we take 
care of the bodies that burnt like roasted
meats on their way home? Last night, 
I stretched my hands to the vast sky,  
maybe God will see my pregnant eyes,
how I became a wanderer, marketing
the paths to Sokoto from Kwara &
return my either –dead or alive– son.
today makes a year that I wished him safe trip
with God's name. then turned to a whistling wind
I don't know if God had welcomed him or
he's somewhere, jagged like a withered flower.

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Abdulbasit Oluwanishola

Abdulbasit Oluwanishola is a young Nigerian poet that writes from Ilorin, Kwara State, Nigeria. He's a student of Usmanu Dafodiyo University Sokoto, studying Agriculture. His works are up/forthcoming on Arts lounge, Suburban witchcraft, Beyond the veil press, Troublemaker firestarter. He's a book project consultant.