Jimoh Aishat Omotolani
When eyes are shut, the i’s are dotted.
And the heart in distress, the t’s are crossed.
”Yay! The soul returned to it’s place!”.
”Nay! Death finally took its toll!’
In isolation we lament,
” Àràgbé lāyé.”
The Agent in disguise,a stranger.
To the Landlord,
loyalty and dedication are owed.
To the Agent,
the soul indebted.
The Courteous one says:
“Pack your bags. Your dues are up!”
“Picked your sibling just now.
Do you think you’ll be spared?”
“Your newly born just followed me.
Ain’t you coming too?”
“Your lover fell in love with me.
Don’t be so unconcerned”
The Uncourteous barges without notice,
must be moody.
Creeps into your soul,
eats it up slowly.
The dark-faced agent feasts on dark a soul.
Bewitching his heart,
slowly and swiftly.
Dead at heart; a living corpse,
Is he who makes empty promises.
The one down in worries and the heart in disarray.
He who commits and settles in crime.
He who acts influenced by the unforeseen.
The Betrayed, the Broken, the Shattered.
The Deceived, the Loner, the Hopeless.
The world, filled with owing clients ,
to the Courteous and Uncourteous!
Peace, to the people who are gone.
Yekpa! For the ones not yet born.
It’s still a mystery to the people who are here.
Jimoh Aishat Omotolani. A 400L student of Common and Islamic Law, University of Ilorin.