History remembers the night that trailed us,
It remembers the bus that carried some of us to the unknown,
It remembers the darkness that stood at the door,
It remembers the light that paved a way for us.
History remembers the beating of drums that awakened the good spirits,
It remembers the call that summoned the elements of the day,
It remembers the unrelenting battle against unseen strangers,
It remembers the watchmen who encountered those emerging from the chambers of the night.
History remembers the unrest and turmoil,
It remembers those who journeyed across the sea in search of a homeland,
It remembers the ruins and ashes that the sun rises to mourn,
It remembers those who longed for a return.
History remembers the songs of sorrow sung for a grieving land,
It remembers the nightfall that swiftly descends,
It remembers the homeless and helpless,
It remembers the prejudiced and disparaged.
Thompson Emate spends his leisure time on creative writing, poetry and prose. He has a deep love for nature and the arts. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria.