SOMEDAY I WILL BE NO MORE
After Rasak Malik Gbolahan
This house will become a memory of me, a museum of my existence holding the regalia I’ve worn on its walls, hanging my frames and poems, holding unto my rosaries as if to leave them is to shift its foundation. Someday my heart will stop beating but my wristwatch will keep ticking; and I will be ushered out of this house and lowered into dust. Someday at night, people will enter the house and ask if there’s anybody left outside, someone will say “No” and they will shut the door leaving me outside in the grave. Someday people will call for a praying mat to pray and they will be given my mat, they will remember me and recite Ikhlas upon my soul. Someone will sit at my corner to mimic how I smile while drawing close the beads of my rosary or while meditating or rubbing my cats on their heads or writing my poems or thinking of the day I will be no more. Someday I will be no more and the only thing that will remain of me is the memory of me.
Taofeek Ayeyemi (Aswagaawy)
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