Since the beginning of this month, sleep has been leaving me between two to three every morning.

Like a bat, my eyes would be glistening under my forehead 

It was as though something always tapped me from my sleep and call my name 

“Àdùní” 

Sometimes I would seat 

Sometimes I would just ponder 

Sometimes I would pray

But this time, I rose to my feet and stepped outside.

Darkness reigned, except the moonlight that cut through intermittently and still drifted back into the cloud.

It was freezing, and I could literally feel goosebumps forming on my body 

Silence.

No horn of vehicles speeding past

No voice of the hawkers trying to call people attention to what they are selling. 

No haggling about the price.

No call to prayer from the mosque 

Even the church is quiet.

Farmers were not going to the farm.

No one was going to the river

The street lie totally deserted 

Everywhere was devoid of noise.

Everyone had retreated to their closets.

I stood still but my eyes wandered.

I could see that houses had totally sunk into darkness

I looked at the sky — it was dark and stretched beyond what eyes could see with millions of stars scattered across it.

The wind stirred occasionally, making the grasses to rustle against one another and the branches of the trees swayed like a shadowy figure beneath the sky

Somewhere along the line, the dog barked.

The sound of the cricket and owl began to compete with the silence.

Silence dominated again.

It was so intense that I could hear the beat of my heart. 

The flow of my blood through my veins.

These hours, the time felt slower. 

The creaked of the gate, a footstep or even smallest sound felt louder than it should 

I inhaled and the earthly smell filled my nose.

I released the breath slowly.

“There is a peace in darkness,” I muttered to myself