At the end,
when humanity becomes
a free bird once again.
When death is tired of slaying
and the vulture of life is done-
feasting on the carcass of humanity.
When the stomach wall of our wicked
mother; earth that uses the cold blood of her children to assuage her blazing thirst.
When she’s(earth) filled to her threshold
and her stomach wall ceases to frolic
and gyrate like an hunter
that killed an Ajanaku (Elephant) on his first hunt.
At the end
of the tunnel, this waning torch
of hope will rekindle.
And smile shall be restored to wistful
Incessantly, memories of our beloved
that left without a farewell-
will hunt us like a predator.
At the end,
the survivors will cite
to their childrens’ ears,
the tale; how their beloved were buried with their enemies.
And the depth of sorrow that sulked their
merry minds into sea of dread,
anguish and tempest.
And at the end,
the heavy legs of yesterday will gyrate like a sybarite swerved in sea of pleasure.
Our wistful souls will wilt her sorrow
and wounds sustained during this pandemic,
their scars will become our nightmare
that torment us in our sleeps-
reminding us of how our beloved drowned with its ship right before our eyes.
■ Balogun Abdulmueed.
■ INSPIRATION ON BOARD.