By Manzi Le Poète
My April schedule was in storm
My April schedule was only screams
My April schedule was full of pain
My April schedule wasn’t a dream
My April schedule wasn’t a scribble.
My April schedule wasn’t forged
My April schedule was my own
My April schedule wasn’t a stanza
My April schedule wasn’t my pleasure
My April schedule was upsetting.
I saw days getting red
I saw blood streaming ahead
I saw mom standing but soon a dead
We’ve been chased more than a decade
But yet it wasn’t the end.
I saw Rwandans divided
Like they never been united
But yet Rwanda wasn’t my pride.
What I heard was weird
What I heard was extremely weird
I heard the screams all over the country
I heard killers singing proudly
I heard babies crying hungry
I heard them killers mocking hardly.
I saw the days no longer brightly
But I wonder wasn’t your work so drudgery?
I remember them killing bravely
And celebrated like it was pageantry.
But today wind of hope is waving