Take Me Back - by Oluwaseun Balogun

Take me back to the old days, when all I knewwas the beaming light of the moonand the music of midnight games. Take me backto mornings where the only dreamwas to feel the sun kiss my skin,to days where joy came simple, sweet, loud, and unafraid. When we walked barefooton burning sand,chasing a stubborn balllike it held the whole world inside it. Pass me the ball. Take me backto when hide and seek was sacred,when curtains were kingdoms of safety,and the store, the perfect hiding place no one checked twice.Take me back. Take me backto when weekdays had meaning,bread and tea in the morning,hot semolina in the evening,soups that danced on our tongueslike celebration. When weekends carried promise, moi moi and pap,slow mornings, soft laughter. And Sundays, rice, stew, and beef,served with peacewe did not know we were holding. Take me backto when home was home.When my parents laughedlike the world had not yet touched them. When we ran along the beach,racing the windinto the waiting arms of the sea. Not now, when attention is divided,and silence sits where joy once lived. Take me backto when friends were friends,not leeches, not shadows with hunger. When we built castles in sand,rode broken bicycle tiresthrough dusty streets,sweating out our soulsjust to feel alive. Take me backto lantern light, flames wrapped in fragile glass,glowing softly against the dark,teaching usthat even small things could hold back night. Take us backto when roads between villagesfelt like adventure, not fear.When midnight journeyswere the heartbeat of life,not a gamble with death. Take us backto when we lived without walls,when safety was not a privilege,when homewas always waiting. Take us backto when one kobo could feed a child,when the naira still carried dignity,when youth found workinstead of waiting. Take us backto when the North was not a warning,when electricity did not flicker like hope. Take us back, take us home. Because somewhere along the way,you fooled us. You led us into a wildernessand called it progress. We trusted you,honoured you,believed in you, and in return,you buried our youngand taught our futures how to bleed. Now we stand here,tired,hollow,remembering what wasand mourning what could have been.We are not asking for much. Not riches.Not miracles. Just this Give us back a placewhere home feels like home again.

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