as i sit here fumbling with the things that colour mind, i saw that death in itself is not the absence of life but another phase of life where we experience darkness in its raw form. seeing how it could have being, the dead man in me sat there in silence waiting to hear the voice of an agile poet. the poet in me is long lost as i try to conjure words with eyes to see through me. i try to form verbs to charm and potions to give me the audacity needed to speak to this man. a grieving soul does not know how to sing, for his song is rendered in the shadows of his tears and shaking of his head. i’m not grieving, i just don’t allow happiness as a standard. i’ve seen people die but this dead man in me is wanting to be resuscitated to grow by my thoughts and flourish in the rivers of my eyes. though i have the eyes of the sun, my trickling energy will not rise a man of valour in bad deeds. my energy wave is trusted in the magnitude of my unhappiness. let alone in this position of a walking dead for i will strike you dead the second time. pray i don’t do that, for a second death will be the death of the mind and of time, which is the most painful death. i don’t wish for you anything in the face of time than a tick tock of you remaining dead.
Adedayo Ademokoya is a Nigerian poet who believes in the potency of words and writing from the heart. Adedayo is passionate about life, love, loss, family and anything that catches his fancy. His works have been published on Brave Arts Africa, Thought Catalog, Praxis Magazine, Kalahari Review, Wild Word, Indian Periodical and elsewhere. Find him on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.
South Broadway Ghost Society 