*The call* 

 _24th March,1985_ 
 _10:30am_ 
 _All saints Chapel_ 
 _Ibadan_ 

We were all dressed in sparkling black,
Awaiting the commencement of the service.
Our heads  bowed in utmost reverence.
Mouths weeping,eyes screaming .
And our lacrimal glands dried like rivers licked up by an angry sun.


We mourned the deceased,
Thought about everything we shared that  evolved into memories
And nothing told us we will meet him again.


At the cemetery
 Tears bursted again and our faces almost rusted of wild weeps.
A shout from here,a noise from there
I stood still,trying to be a strong man
But my conscience never denied me of few tear drops.

I saw the vanity of life.
I saw how great men become "late" after their last breath
I realised honours and riches are mere fantasies that take us nowhere near the boundaries of heaven.
We sang hymns  again,mournfully but tunefully.
From dust to dust.
Oh death! an halt that reduces all to little aughts.

 The thoughts of heaven encompassed my mind.
 *Would I be called to rise in Paradise?* 
Or would I be summoned to pay for my ills and misdeeds.
They say life is an infinity of struggles
But one day,death will converge my struggles to an eternal rest
Just like it did to my dear friend that just departed this sinful world.
What will be said of me when I am gone?


 *When I close my eyes and open it at the throne of judgement,* 
 *What will be my portion* ?


 _Olasumbo Ajibola_



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