When I was younger
I thought death
Embraces men with snowy hair
Crumpled skins and weak bones
That it was blind to the people
Of my age and their age
Like old age was attached to
An expiry date.

But death is here,
Lurking around the sands the
Tender hands use to build castles,
Dancing in the aroma of the food
A new bride cooked for her husband.
It sings to the pulsating heart beat of a
Final year student whose result
Has been his tomb of joy.

And death is here,
Strewn on the happiest faces
Sprawled on the palace of the richest.
As we glean pebbles of dreams
It steals our bodies on the day of fruition.

Death is here,
The vessel to take you to
Your final abode.
On this earth we’re
Nothing but strangers preparing
For the eternal abode like
Urchins wash up for school.

How prepared are you for
The time death takes you To meet your Maker?
On this earth we’re
Nothing but strangers.

© Olatunde Azeezah (PenTalks)


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