My son is almost twelve, And he can pick up a textbook To plot his course and destiny. For a model, he had Malala Yousafzai, Who taught him the value  Of education and resistance.  His life will be so easy Compared to children Living near Azadi Square, Growing up with fire raining  From the drones’ constant roar; Children—generations—in the Niger Delta, Who live and die without ...

Oh, say, can you see how the red rockets rage? Spilling across the sky like ink on the page. Do you see, if you will, how they erode the night? Streaks of fire masquerading as a star’s shooting light. Interceptors weave together to cripple the coming wrath, like a hammer meets a gun, and bullets ...

I cry like a newborn babyI have the naive curiosity of a childOver the years I have learnt to listenAnd the wisdom gainedLives onInside my seventy-year-old mind I would like to thinkI am honest and kind like my dadAnd his calm gentle guidanceLives onInside my seventy-year-old mind I Know I have inherited the strengthsOf resilience ...