I’ve been having this recurring dream that my mind cannot make sense of
And when my heart woke me up crying again last night, I asked what was wrong, and she told me ‘Write, and you will know’
I see myself dressed in black
Standing in an empty field
But the church bells are ringing at a near distance
Ding…Ding…Ding
In Front of me is a closed casket laid out on an altar
The time is 07:18.00
Ding…Ding
I lift open the casket and the wind whirls at me
We fight, the wind and I,
Until I finally throw the hood open,
Imagining all the faces I could see
But there isn’t a body inside
Instead, dirt spills out as the cloth that has been shoved in fights its way out
Spilling over my feet
Red, black, green, and white blind my eyes as I pull out the flag
Immediately recognizing my country
The one I’ve worn on my wrist since birth
Ding
My watch ticks and I look down to note the time
07:19.20
The wind has returned only this time she came to collect
And it’s the flag in my hands that pays the price
I watch it slam to the ground a few feet away from me
The casket that was filled with dirt slowly starts to pool blood,
Making me step back in utter shock as the blood rises, drenching my dress
The weight pulling me down as if I’m on quicksand
The ground no longer visible, I scream out in the sea of red
The wind pushes the casket open again
And I hold my arms up to deter the fabric that’s blowing my way
Swirls of green, yellow, blue, red, white, and black flash before my eyes
Those nations suffering the same fate as mine
By the time the sea of red has creeped up to my waist,
the attack has ended but not before the wind pushes the casket to the ground
My eyes strain to make out the Red Cross sewn in the middle of an X behind a cold blue canvas
The flag slips off the alter diving into the sea of red
And this time it’s not the wind who collects
It’s the blood of the colonized.
Perpetual Kahindo is a third-year Political Science major. PK973548@wcupa.edu.