we brought candles, flowers and children’s toys
one of those days where hope is offered in prayers,

a child is remembered by her shoe size,

another by the broken candy he last held
we till in a city of unanswered prayers,

maybe the earth can keep a mass memory —

for the child that was promised a city of glee

for the child who is learning to flee
for rasaq, asmau, jide, dorcas, many unclaimed tombs

for children of gaza, stolen from the arms of their beloved

for children of osiele, the ones who did not return,

for the ones who returned with marred futures
there’s something wrong with the english alphabet —

the vowels in grieving are a little too heavy,

the consonance of home is distant,
when children disappear, i learn new words —

like building cenotaphs for the children of yawota,

pouring libations for death when they burn villages