From a mind that has not been at rest, and from a soul whose tranquility has gotten acquainted
with the waves of the sea:
At this point, the coldness of the weather has frozen my ink; still, I will struggle to produce the
heat of my mind.
I feel like a decedent° but I find my legs walking perfectly on the streets of a confused world. I find
my heart beating and my body active. So why do I feel dead? Why does it seem to me that I am
confined to a cage but no restriction comes with it as a package?
I am no longer whole. I am broken and each piece of me has lost its origin. I am a fragment, so tell
me how I can live when the last piece of me is about to fade away. I have lent myself to every soul
and those souls have denied my face countless times. They are quick to say, ‘I need you’ and are
indifferent to return the piece of me that completed them. Not like I expect them to…
I am fading.

‘I cannot give what I do not have’ was always all I told myself but in my lost state, I realised how
much of directions I have given to lost legs without having any for myself. With my
aching knees, I crawled to these beings for guidance but no one opened their doors to welcome me.
And you want to bid me farewell? Save yourself the stress. For when I needed your direction, you
denied knowing me but you are willing to take your time to walk with your insincere teary eyes to
lead my body to its place of rest? Please, save yourself the farewell for you are not fair as humans
should be. Instead, I will be glad to bid you farewell.
I thought I had hope. I never knew how wrong I was but wait! I think I have. Yes, my hope lies in the
day I become permanently numb— my death day. I find strength in death but it is failing me. Each
time I wake up, I feel this rage of disappointment run down the spines of my soul. You care to know
why? I did not die! Checking the time feels so disheartening as it dawns on me that I have only had
half an hour of sleep.
Time is too slow and death seems to run far away from me. The more my weak legs chase death,
the more death acquires strength to fly away from me! Then I discovered that my reliance on death
as my hope was only a deceit I was ignorant of.
One day, I recollected every moment, every second that seemed as though they were an hour. I
then became aware of the emptiness of my life; the vacuum of my life was filled with ‘I do not
All I am sure of is that someday my feeble legs will catch up with proud death’s mighty wings but
how that would happen, still, I do not know.
Too bad that when I die I will not know I am dead. It would be my best day. Too bad I will not be
alive to witness the day I am longing for.

© Chidubem Gabson

~Decedent: A dead person.

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