By Ronald Ssekajja.
The empty streets are crowded
with the absence of you.
So, don’t call me when I am drunk
To remind me of the loved ones,
that got blown away,
with the cruel tide of life.
With the fear of the COVID 19 plague,
We cry a river to wash away our pain.
We are too young to fill this void!
The streets are empty,
There is nothing to show now!
You all left to find the soul,
the heart of life in catastrophe
But these days are not the same
The streets are not the children we fathered;
they are orphans crying out.
The cigarette sits where the ash sat on the tray.
I hope someday we will meet again
Sip latte and joke about these days
But it is not pretty when houses
become the place where work and worry marry.
Now don’t remind me
Of the things I didn’t do then
I hope you may only remind me
That we are not alone
in this walk in the dark!
Ronal Ssekajja is a poet and engineer living in Kampala, Uganda. He is also a performance poet and has performed at many poetry nights in Kampala. He was the featured writer of the Love-Money issue of the Nalubaale Review Literary Magazine, our own. He is the author of a poetry collection titled, “Echoes of Tired Men”, available on Amazon and Jumia Uganda. He also writes at http://ronaldkssekajja.com/