By
Abdulkareem Awwal Opeyemi
IF I DIE – PART I
I
If I die
And take a sojourn to where rest liveth
Tell my kids when they too can feed their mouths
That I have left for them words
Plough from wisdom of a grayed hair
II
I die
When my hands will stretch forward
And no pen it will hold
No more writing from the quill that fill my bed
Tell the world that a man is gone
III
If I die
And my mouth agape with no words speaking
And my ears deserts words
And my eyes closed to see lights
Cry not for me, rather, bury me like a king
IV
If I die
When my pen and book will beacon a call to me
When my kids will hold my hands to teach a word
Tell them I am far gone
Far gone to a home where deceit lives not
V
If I die
Tell not to the word that a gem is dead
Rather tell them
That I have gone to learn words from the supreme
Whose word all being relied
VI
When I die,
Bother not bury me in a coffin,
Leave my body to the land,
Bother not cry, let my soul go and not wander
And tell the vulture who dine on remains
That I have a bile in my stomach
Bile full of words
The like which killed the pig in the bush yesterday
But bury me with my pen and book like a king
Will be bury with his errand boy
IF I DIE – PART II
I
When I get old and my born becomes fragile
Dancing to the tune of fatigue
And my hair changes colour
Like chameleons, whose death came
While watching self from the house-wives powder
Then soon I will answer the call from beyond
I will die
II
If I die
Tell the sorcerers, that his incantation
hasn’t taken a blow on my jaw
Tell him, that his night journey,
and foods for the birds didn’t knock down my hormone
But only the voice from the great callers I respected
Only a rest I went to take from where fatigue reaches not
III
If I die
Tell my children, I have only left
Not as a coward in the ring
But a Valliant to battles of words
Wars that carter virtues away from holder
For the death of a valiant
Is better than the living of the cowards
IV
If I die
Tell the doors of my home
That am gone, to make them proud
Tell them, hide not the kolanut of words under your tongue
Tell them, I left to make them the heroes of time
For a widow of the brave warrior
Is a mother to the wife of a coward
V
If I die
When I seize to take the pleasure of air
And I reject the call of the majestic men
When my pen shall fall, and my book send to an uncommon rest
When the bleeding on my pen and the lines on my book remains disvirgins
Tell the world, that neither my words betrayed me, nor do I betray my pen
But the inevitable journey must be accomplished
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