I saw her sprawled on the ground.
Her limbs scattered in odd directions around her torso.
The skin stretched out on bone-like old parchment; withered and dried
like mango leaves in harmattan.
The lines coursed through the decaying skin like the waves on desert sand.
Her breasts had sagged like deflated balloons underneath her
The face was dried of all juice like an old cashew.
Her body was indeed rotting.
As I bent over her hideous face to perceive any sound that would flow
from parted lips displaying sparse rotten teeth, her eyes bore into
I felt terrible anguish course from my eyes to my heart, like a hot
lash had whipped me.
The lash whipped over and over again as I felt her angst through her eyes.
Her eyes were so widened, it seemed they would pop from their orbits.
Terror lay in them.
The atmosphere became eerie as I felt a cold chill trace my spine and
my hair stand in fright.
Death let out a malicious chuckle.
She began to tremble violently.
Her eyes became frantic and looked at me pleadingly.
I saw the chain death carried to drag her by the neck and caught a
glimpse of the thousand woes that lay ahead of her.
The trembling stopped.
The eyes in terror still continue to stare.
She had left them, dragged by death to fate.
The chains were made up of the regrets and fears that stemmed from an
incarnation lived without purpose.
A life spent following every whim of mind and caprice of emotion, but
barely paying heed to the words of the Spirit that cried out to her
She continuously drowned him out with her life of intentional mediocrity,
A life spent going to school, reading to pass, getting a result,
getting a job and slaving off someone else’s idea as she played fiddle
to get pay for the day.
man…male human, and living through the
sparse joy and many sorrows of a married life akin to mediocre
Bearing children and watching them strut one by one to start life.
Her husband left also as he did due to obesity and lung cancer.
And so she ‘ripened’ to old age and was sent off to the village for
she was becoming a nuisance.
A walking stick became her only companion as the girl that stayed in
the house to care for her did not care if she ate or breathed.
She with her trusted walking stick took many frantic walks out of the
house in search for something that she could only find within.
It was on one such search that she lost grip of her friend and fell to
the ground, never to move again.
And so she existed!
Never listening to the whisper of the spirit that told her over and
over again to be loving to the person next to her.
To quit the conventional hobbies of fear and worry.
To do more than just work or go to school but to also actualise her
talents and not get lost in the dungeon called ‘shyness’.
Just another one of the masses that die everyday.
She had made no impact to her city, let alone humanity.
So mother earth gladly took her back in, for she was becoming more of
a burden than a pillar.
My words that are forming your imagination will sound caustic but they
Many of us die everyday but only a few of us summon up the courage to live.
We who decide to live are we who walk and talk with God in spirit and truth.
Living life in purpose and enthusiasm as we shine out Christ to the
world; battling and slaying fears with the sword of truth.
Going to school but achieving more than just the daily grind like the
average student as we excel in life: not just in academics.
Doing more than just sitting in an office all day but actively
Living a life of health and beauty with spouse and children.
Finally, truly ripening to old age.Then our hearts would not murder us
with regret and condemnation for a life of activity without purpose,
but our spirits blast us with peace for a life well lived.
Death is more than the EKG going beep beep…
It is a refusal to obey the spirit and choose to realise meaning.
Each time we give in to fears that only exist in the movie of our
imaginations, we commit Slow Suicide.
As we choose to live to and for God,
plugging in the earphones of the Spirit and letting His words
transform us to Christ, we stop being mediocre and we live.
This article is singularly the views of the writer.
OBEHI is a 200 Level Law student and a Guest Writer of the University of Benin.