“The duties of a Muslim to the other are five; returning greetings, visiting the sick ones, the cemetery…” — Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W)
Unlike a cancer patient whose, days, weeks or months are being counted for,
unlike the fate of a sick chick in the pen,
her death came bluish. Like the reaction of adrenaline. Lord! How much soul is the land devouring daily? Roads were blocked, cars were held up— the cemetery seemed like a sacred place of pilgrimage. They say may we not slice the land with our hands— to bury our children. Fathers were carrying their toddlers for burying. Some graves were the foot-mat we were stepping on. God knows how many times some sites were dug for burying different souls.
People said do not cry again, please!. I did not know when my eyes turned to desert. my body an Island of wonder. The place of the landlord, senator, fisherman was 6 feets and some cms deep dug. See people like soldiers at war. Like the sequence of ants. And, we shall pray janazah to
another people that’ll soon dissemble like
an untied broom among us— tomorrow,
the day after, or a few months to come.
They say migrate, for inspiration. And, this is me visiting the cemetery once again.