In war, child soldiers are asked to kill their family, this also is an act of bravery.

There is a blandness of origin to everything. 
In the beginning was the war and the war dwelt inside of us and the war was us. 

I am learning no one carries the weight of love when the sky is raining bullets.

Every nightmare begins with my body plummeting into the soft cloud that is my bed, 

My eyes shut behind itself cause I am half dead, 
Is that not what sleeping is all about? 

                        To be Half committed to dying.

I exist in both realms of reality & the heavy lucent of dreaming, my body plummets into a 

tunnel soaked with blood, soaked with the heavy burden of loss, grotesque hands reaching out to 

touch the hem of my garment, my child’s hands, the brother who died before I existed, in

my mother’s hands, all mistaking me for the Savior, their face slicing into tears, into agony.

Someone from the realms of reality sprinkles ethanol into my dreams, says lover,  ARISE!

it’s dawn & the sun starts to creep-in on all my fears, saves me from ghost land, 

I am learning that love is a brutal labor that can’t save everyone.

About the Author:

Ejiro Elizabeth Edward is the winner of Antoa Poetry Contest. She has been published in Hoax PublicationDownriver RoadOlongo AfricaFeralHeartland Women MagazineBrittle Paper among others. She has upcoming works in Native Skin and Olney. She is currently a student at the University of Benin and looks forward to being an MFA student. Find her on Twitter: Ejiroedward552, Instagram: Ejiro Elizabeth Edward.

Feature image by blauthbianca / Pixabay