THE RAVE OF A PARTING SOUL

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When on the infirmary bed I was dead lain
when through the tunnel of death my soul had passed
and had slipped to the chasm of dark,
my stark spirit rose from the vain cadaver mine
as though some hose dripping blood to my veins I saw
and the forlorn avatar of an etiolated me
and by and by meandering to the air
I saw my anaemic steps pacing and my atrophied mien dissipating.
Groping, I strove for the doctor’s hem
to grip his hand and brawl to his ear
on how I had drifted from my sprawling state
and no keen eyes had pressed me with a care
or saving hands to draw me back.

My hollow mind doubled gay and morose at once
of how it seemed I was healed of my sickly state
and how it seemed I had passed away.
Free, free and free like a boundless wing
a soul had absconded and was heading where?
My duplex below, the landscape of the swinging town
I thought I could branch but off and off I went.
And through the rueful window of reminiscence
my trifling plight on the ruthless earth below revealed
at a twinkling flash that lasted a shorter date.
I beheld a maimed log of a man
beneath the chest of a somersaulted jeep
that was once in an ambulance borne.

Strutting and strutting like a drunk
I wobbled to the terminus of the road.
Fretting and fretting like a fowl
the air howled me like the sand.
Whirling and whirling with the wind
I ascended with a flight.
Aloft on a wingless flight
I grounded on an expanse with a fright.
My face flickered to the right
no companion to escort me.
My face flickered to the left
no lover to support me.
But I trembled after my shadow shambling before me saying:
“The man that had looted the treasury of a state
the man that had swindled many of their dreams
the man that had ousted many from their seats
follow me.”

Written by: Olayiwola Olarewaju Metamofosis
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson