Tonight, a mother sits in the living room, her child’s photo hanging on the wall and her hopes high. “He will soon arrive”, she says.
Tonight, an old man, his hair greyed by the years sits in the verandah awaiting
the voice of his son as saunters in
Tonight, a grandmother will gather tears in her eyes. “It should have been me,” she’ll scream.
Tonight, the ground weeps as it hears the wailing of the funeral procession
Tonight, we shall gather, grief sitting arms akimbo for those who went and became
tears coursing down our cheeks
We gather for those who slept and crossed the Bridge
Suddenly! There was a full stop. To their stories.
Suddenly! Their suns went down and darkness sucked them in.
As we gather to cast wreaths of griefs and farewells upon their graves,
Let’s be reminded that our breath is dust
That our flesh is meal for earth
That Jerusalem in the sky is our residence.
And our souls not be tied to earth.
from our hearts.
Selah
Written in honour of Unibadan students who lost their lives in Agbowo.
Ibn Yahweh
