this hand hold yours for a little/the walls
seem further now/you are friend yes/yes
George/we friends/your face fills with
tree barks/you should see tired/look at
yourself/where did we sit the time/
the seats warp/is it that long ago/
remember the war/how we ran/how we
fell/remember the taste/bullets lodged
inside those three boys running with.../
what war was that/the first/the
second/the third/was war our body/we
wanted the becoming & the soldiers
carnaged our lives/i never knew tears
dry up/me too/what we running from
that time/time faded everything i.../how
long I known you/all of the evil time/
my friend yes/we know evil time/
did we pluck mangoes from Dede's
trees/no but we swarmed Ethiope/
rounds after rounds tearing water
to tears/we did that/those were evil
times too/yes/we have survived evil
times/it must be my mother's prayers/
did I tell you she's prayer warrior.../your
mother been dead forty years/how
do you know/I'm your friend George/
are you my mother's friend/who
are you & why do you keep calling
me George/I am your friend
With the poem above, I have come to the end of these chronicles that speak of life while looking at death. This chronicle is a different animal compared to my older writings. It is not as experimental as those pieces. Maybe I am settling like an old house. I really want that vibrant colour I saw when I first began writing here.
I hope that you have enjoyed each piece that made up this chronicle, be it a story or a poem. I have enjoyed writing each one of them.
Thank you #inkwell, #freewriters, #blockchainpoets, #proofofbrain for providing spaces that welcomed my writing. I am entirely grateful also to 
