By Dan Mulinge – Kenya
We went to war, son.
Everyone, including your mother.
No one left home, yet to war we went,
For the war was within.
Son, the enemy was brutal!
No one ever saw him, except with a cough
No one could touch him, except with masks,
With soap and water, we fought.
Many lost their lives, son.
Fear killed us before its hands could.
Restrictions killed us before the war murdered,
It was hard fighting what you couldn’t see.
Mothers never saw the graves of their sons,
Husbands too, couldn’t bury their wives!
Death was slow, and painful.
It was death without blood. Cunning!
Nations staged a world war, son.
States began fighting together,for the first time,
Never has an enemy been ruthless.
In an emotional world,it was a cold rage.
So the rich pleaded with the poor to cough less
The poor begged the rich to travel less
The young begged the old to forget sunbaths
The old urged the young to never hold hands
Governments needed the people
The people needed governments,
Tyrants stayed home at last
Terrorists too were awed
We fought,son,with all we got.
All we got was discipline,water, soap.
All we got was division,
The far we were the more we won.
We fought with masked faces and gloved hands.
Bullets of running waters and grenades of soap
An enemy was this easy to kill.
Were it not for our love of our faces.
We won, son.
With clean hands and foaming buckets
We won with division, and unity
Yes,we won.
That’s why I hug you like a trophy.
That’s the prize of winning the war.
Nalubaale Review Literary Magazine 