The eastern horizon is crimson red this Easter Sunday.
Easing yet another day in a foreign abode.
But then it's no peace,no ease without an easer.
The streets of Vatican are still,as to the cemetery of Langa'ta to Nairobi.
It's no more time to feast,to pray;it's time to die.
He sobs;for his mum gave her all,for him to live his all.
He hungers;for his mum so gave her all to give anymore,for him to study his all.
He coughs,picks his phone,to call the authorities,for he can no more.
But then,he calls his mum who gave her all,all on her own.
He holds back his tears,his stomach,his cough,his fate as the phone goes through...."he coughed her last,it's covid-19,we gave our all,she called on you all her way.she said she gave her all,for you to live your all,your whole"
©lewteb
L