Chuka Nnabuife
We live everyday on borrowed breath
hanging on just breather, offered by fate
and her harsh blind strokes of sword
and hammer, swinging to fall any.
Hence it happens that non can count
his date nor counter his set departure
from this den of deadly humour
that Providence thrust on our
cycle, dubbed living on earth –
this mock adventure in uncertainty –
disconcerting, disheveling, unreal
like dreamnight revery which can end, abrupt
Oh life!
and there goes Olugbenga Agbana,
another hobbled for some while, here like all, us –
running this rat race errand, in toil, soil and sweat
deeming the dream, real
only to wake this morning (Wednesday, March 7, 2012)
in the yond
with the ancestors and saints
dear, ‘Oloye ‘Gbenga’
(So, I used to call you at Rutham House)
I bow, take my bye
till we meet again.