Our Story
written by: Hakim Fuhad Mansaray
It no longer keeps us awake
the fire, uncertain, falters at the edge,
choosing neither to blaze nor to die.
Even the flames we gather around yawn,
drifting toward slumber,
while we—the next dry branches—await our turn to burn.
The smoke spirals differently now,
twisting against the wind’s spiral
like a mind lost in unraveling reflections.
The real and the false
meld and combust,
reduced to ash too dark, too shapeless
to recognize.
In the morning, solemnly they lay
the ashes of yesterday,
their story scattered, replayed
in feeble minds fumbling for clarity.
Time erases the details,
even in the untouched woods
that never caught fire.
What has truly changed?
The story,
or the logs that once roared so bright
their sparks challenged meteors?
Perhaps it is us
the smaller woods,
that refuse to burn after all.
