MORE THAN A BOMB... (TRIBUTE TO MY LATE SISTER MARYAAM) If you think you are a flower planted on this ephemeral heaven to sprout eternally, then its the frantic notion you ever sculpted upstair. One perilous natural phenomena that cripples human shedules is, darling death; and dear death is far beyond an affair of fabrication. It has being in exitence, even though, in abstraction, since the inception of this candid but bitter universe and certainly, as a human, beyond any measurable doubt, in one way or the other, you must have lost somebody, so attached to you, whether your nurtured mother, soldierly father, sister, brother, son or daughter and as such you can tell how excruciating it is for death to snatch a special part of you. Novertheless, first, I am a Muslim, I have faith in whatever Allah ordained, for we are all His servants and He knows best. The sudden departure of my amazon sister, MARYAM, was more than a bomb God dropped to my fecund heart. Her demise was one of the unaccustomed death that tortured my body beyond soul, at first I found it difficult to embrace the fact that my sister is gone, gone forever to a distant sacrosanct coma where I and you must irresistibly visit. However I can still feel the warmth of her words walking tenderly on the hips of my heart in a swift conversation I had with her, exactly June 21st, 2014 day prior to her death. She told me not to forget them in future, I should pay good attention to my studies because there is nothing that is as priority as education and to not play with Azkar because there are friendly enemies gleefully ambushing my deterioration. In the history of life, right from the period of our prophet Muhammad (S.A.W) to date, great men are those that firmly hold on to their faith, strive in the path of Allah to keep the flag of light flying across thousand generations, certainly, MARYAM was one of them; a pious woman, religious, industrious and helpful to the needy. Her matrimonial journey had illuminated far beyond the glitter of moon. She was our medallion champion, in love, care and dedication to her family and relatives. Such her quick demise caused great sadness beyond definition, she had a beautiful end, she answered the call of nature in the process of labour, chanting Kalimatu Shahada. Her death came with a feeling that only poetry can conjure. The time we carried her coffin, a lot of thoughts rattled my heart, tears clouded my eyes and words started flowing on paper to rejuvenate the volume pain of missing her. RHYTHMOF SORROW (TO MY LATE SISTER;MARYAM) Your story Shall soar more than the eagle Rampaging In the wilderness of the skies Not by the horror of pounding pestles But for the thrilling sensation to rear her sons To race the forest And as you embraced The courtship of your second marathon Mine is to tan Your seed from husk That can shackle its sprout Not by stretching my soldierly hands But with blows of pen and prowess. © A A YANTAGWAYE 1:43Pm Thur, 026-060-2014 WEARILESS STORM ISAH Life Is a child of death That thunders and turns Beyond the wails of our lives You cant Cajole the gossip Of destiny Conceived in the misty eyes of time Look homeward A dried field of hope Cracked and shattered like gory scene But God knows our books better That He foisted this weariless storm on us Feasting on our darlings And now Has blown Maryaam Who she was more that a patch shade In the Communion of scorching sun © A A YANTAGWAYE 9:01Pm Mon, 030-060-2014 Rest In Peace SISTER!
Posted on: Sat, 09 Aug 2014 18:57:53 +0000
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