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Babatunde Raimi Apr 2020
Mortal men in mortal prisms
Glory not in the demise of another
One day, you too shall pass
It is the only enemy of humans
Death.

If one dies, are we then immortal?
Only God knoweth the why?
Why not hope for a better ending
In place of musing over the transition of another
If death be good, can it be bequeathed?

Save for autopsy or the likes
When a muslim transits before asr
He can be prepared for final boarding
As long as it is not magrib
Otherwise, at dawn, that is sunnah
When we get to heaven
We'll know the true followers of "Eledumare"
To the deceased, "Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un"

When a christian dies
Please, as admonihsed by the Messiah
"Leave the dead to bury their own dead.”
Whenever, however, their choice
A deceased may not be your hero
Does that confer you any title?
Say, a judge or jurry?

To be or not to be?
This is the exclusive reserve of the Uncreated Creator
May our leaders learn from this natural transition
That, called death...

We are all but sourjourners
From dust to dust shall we return
And when the time cometh
The book shall be opened
Whether to everlasting peace or contempt
You'll be judgrd by your works
Do right! Live right

But know it
When the righteous perisheth
It shall be into peace
For them who walk in righteousness
Their bed is laid in petals of gold
With the insignia: "Weldone good and faithful servant"

Oh Lord, heal our land
Let this be a reminder to us all
Life is a journey, walk it
Like had a terminus, live right
Only  remember, every soul shall taste death
When and where my friend
Only God knowest...

Finally, before you drop a line
If you wish to drop a line
Scroll through this with common sense
That which is not very common
For only the possessed
Glory in the death of another...
The phone call continues to echo in my mind. I keep waiting for another to tell me this isn’t real. My own home now serves as a reminder that although minutes away you left this world alone. We were just young girls running around as if downtown was our own play ground. Our nights at Kaldis. Our endless dance synchronizations to Premier Gauo. The meals and stories we’d share the next morning reliving snickering at the havoc we wrecked. The way you lit up every room with your prescence and smile made you infectious. Your perfect melanated skin and bone structure. I always wondered how God could make someone so perfect. It was impossible to not be enamored by you, your unwillingness to conform, bend or fold. You were the epitome of life. Now I’m mourning yours. No one preparers you for tragedy despite life having so many. Even then you hope to never lose friends before they’ve seen gray hair. The way memories made from love now haunt you. My sister, my partner in nonsense in joy and sorrow. Please watch over me. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.

— The End —