Title: My Twitter keeps feeding me crumbs of a distant war.
At times I wonder, Who will tell you the news of my death—Hamid Mosadegh. The blueness of space. A video pops up like a portal and pulls me in. Inside, iron birds shit bombs that make the earth unsure of itself. Dust and smoke cataracts the sun and the sky is a broken chandelier. There are faceless voices and screams fluttering about, searching for bodies to nest in and call home. Then there is a Ukrainian soldier, his cheeks and nose pink against the translucent snow. He recites an old Persian poem in Farsi and I wonder how brave one must be to wear a tongue that isn’t his in the mouth of a crocodile. In the poem, another soldier is wondering how his beloved would find out about his death. How she, a tired old oak, would just shrug, unsurprised by the snap of the crocodile’s jaw. Little boys are taught that it is glory for a dove to fly beak-first into the death dance of a tornado, taught that it is their duty to break the spinning poltergeist spine, taught to pluck their feathers and fill it’s pores with spittle from the mouths of other men. Men are taught to be men and Walahi It will be the end of us. The doves fight the wars of the vultures and the aftermath is an empty seat at a mother’s dinner table
Title: A boy, a body, a bullet, a bird.
In my life I have been many things, A body yearning for a sepulchre to die in, A bird eating up the sky, A bullet shifting through time and space, Searching for a crevasse to lodge itself in And spread like an infection Or shatter into a litany of joys and sorrows. Do not worry, this isn’t another knock on grief’s door. No, this is a man with a flashlight searching for the bone in his stomach. In my life, I have been many things, A boy hoping to taste air.
About The Author:
Godwin Adah is a Nigerian writer. He is a recent finalist for the Awele Creative Trust Award and was longlisted for the Afritondo Short Story Prize (2022). You can find him on Twitter and Instagram @goddy_adah

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