To a friend who lost his dad and going through tough time, as something I call an error, is somehow a norm in Nigeria, i said I was going to write a poem on it.
This one is for you Eric Justice aka #Justicks
His last days spent in misery
He had no friends to visit him
No family he could count on
He was diagnosed of a chronic illness
No money to cure him
Doctors refused to treat him
And then he died...
The news of his death spread like wild fire in the desert
His family heard
Popped out their head from nowhere
A family meeting was called.
His children are required to bring a black goat each
His grandchildren will bring a white cock each
Even the ones unborn.
His funeral date was set
His coffin was made of the the finest gold
Deeds of his lifetime were presented in a book
That look like a textbook
Everyone wanted to say how they loved him
Wailings from loved ones
Sobbing from those who didn't even made a pact with him
His face was printed boldly
On every T-shirt his family wore
He was buried...
The wailing stopped
The food he didn't eat
During his lifetime
Was wasted
The money he needed during his lifetime
Was wasted uselessly
What a pity!!
Now, this is an error, how we value the dead over the living...
