I came out of the mine today
After scrabbling at the mother lode
Assisted with a radio spewing the ode
Of the world above
As I crawled towards the circle of white
My mind was awash with fright
Now I stood outside
The light; why does it sting my eyes so?
Stabbing my eyes with rainbow blades
The wind; why does it mock my clothes so?
Flapping them like a polythene bag in the wind
The water drags me in an ankle lock
Trying to drag me in a viscous vortex
Spittle rumbles from my rib cage
I wipe my mouth
Why is it scarlet?
The mucus glowing like red jell-o
A sore sight for pretty eyes
Birds scream in my ear
Cauterizing my cochlea with iron hot insults
My mind is in disarray
Memories seeping away as the sand in my hands slither
Nibbling the skin of my palms
Tan rats hissing at each other as they hit the ground
The ignominy of the assault on my senses
The democracy of nature
Is an affront to my mind
The dark never looked so friendly
The gloom made a snug blanket
I look down
At the circle of black
And I fly into its charcoal depths
© Sena Kodjokuma, 2013
“When a good thing goes bad it’s not the end of the world, it’s just the end of a world” – Drake, Doing It Wrong
7th January 2011, I’ll never forget that night. That night a friend passed away. My former class and housemate. Not a close friend but his passing rocked me to my core. It felt like a piece of me had just disappeared for good. The thought that a living person would in another moment cease to draw breath and be declared dead was a frightening one. I had lost a loved one before. My grandfather had passed a few years before that. Nothing though could prepare me for this; a young man approaching his prime hacked down. Death. Very often my mind strays towards that moment and I find myself asking “what actually happens at the moment of death?” They say you know when you’re about to die. I wonder how true it is. I think of what Glenn’s last thoughts would have been like. I look back at my life and I wonder who would bother to show up at my funeral and listen to the nice things said about me. The people I care about, the ones who won my heart. I wonder how they would feel. What if I suddenly died. Would the pain of having to bury a child overwhelm my parents? Not very comfortable thoughts. All too often I itch to start writing my autobiography. I guess I want to have some measure of control in my death. Soon after Glenn passed I used to dream about dying. Each time my spirit passes from my body and I roam; disembodied. In my innate curiosity that dark hole exists. When my body becomes food, an apex predator is reduced to fodder. All the intricate systems woven into me, all the experiences I have acquired turns to mush. It’s a surprisingly calm thought. The struggle to overcome death is why we live. We crave to do great deeds and erect monuments so we are remembered after we’re long gone. Even the intangible dies, so the fate of mortality cannot be delayed. I believe death is the start of a new life. My faith teaches me that. Whenever I interact with my environment i appreciate life even more. Coming to terms with the reality of my finiteness is a lesson taught to me by Glenn. Even in the grave the dead influence the affairs of the living. From grandpa, the first person I lost, the value of living is knowledge.
“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”- Matthew 6:21
Peter Y. Kodjokuma 1924 – 2008
Glenn Agbana: 1990 – 2011
You are fondly remembered.
The beauty of life,
It’s plain ugly.
The white caps gallop
Sea roars; an azure monster
Fettered by sand