Our House

I arose and went to Rugoma

And a small house completed there,

Made of bricks, tiles, indoor plumbing and lights a glare.

It had stood for decades, a reminder of all that was yet unfinished, thanks to a younger brother.

My mother swore that she would not see heaven if she died before this house was finished.

The news struck my heart like a hornet’s sting.

Then, like guided by an invisible hand, things began to change in my life;