What If Water Could Speak??

Tue 25th Aug 2026

What if the water could speak?

Would it tell us
it came only as rain,
but found our gutters asleep,
our drains filled with yesterday,
our buildings standing
where rivers once breathed?

What if the water could speak?

Would it ask us,
“Why did you build over my path?
Why did you turn my home
into your foundation?”

Today, Bamenda is crying
not with tears,
but with torrents.

And behind every flooded street
is a mother lifting her child,
a father watching his little shop disappear,
a family praying
that the next wave stops at the doorstep.

We are poets.
We are supposed to be mirrors.

So let us not only write
about the beauty of Bamenda’s hills.
Let us write about the pain
at their feet.

What if tomorrow
the rain comes harder?

What if the water rises higher?

What if the next home swallowed
is ours?

Maybe then we will understand
that flooding is not only nature speaking
sometimes,
it is our neglect
answering back.

Bamenda,
we see you.

And today,
our poetry must not only mourn.

It must ask.

It must warn.

It must awaken.

Because what if
we still do nothing?

What if the next poem
is written
by the water?