I fear the day.
When my body becomes still,
My brain chills.
My heart stops.
My limbs stiffen.
My eyes stare.
That day, calls can’t be answered.
Mails can’t be read.
Money can’t be spent.
Cars can’t be driven.
Spouse can’t be kissed.
Children can’t be hugged.
The day I’ll be washed like laundry,
Shrouded like garbage,
Carried in a long box out of my house.
I can’t live there anymore.
Off I go, to a cosy space,
Dug for my corpse to decay.
The day I am left alone,
Six feet down the earth.
People would wish it was a dream.
But it’s been written and it must be.
One more day would never be granted.
My time is up, and I’ll be gone.
But that day is the least of my worries.
The Last Day,
The Final Hour.
The last man standing finally dies.
Then behold, the caller calls.
And everyone who’s lived returns.
The day my soul is reunited with my flesh.
But I don’t get a mind of my own.
I face my creator and recite my book.
Nothing is added, nothing is deducted,
Every breath is recorded.
Every act is explained.
The day when eyes, hands and feet
Recall what their owner did.
What they saw.
What they touched.
Where they stepped.
All they did and failed to do.
The day some will be praised,
And some, disgraced.
Some will be forgiven,
And some will be doomed.
Some will be rewarded with all pleasure.
All will be repaid in full measure.
The day some will be spared,
No account.
No story.
No interrogation.
Just an invitation to abide in Gardens forever!
I want to be amongst those, Oh Lord! Let me be amongst those!
Khadijah Sanni-Tijani
AskDoctorKT 