And Adewale Died

Posted on September 15, 2014


Here, Adewale lies, lonely and forsaken

In a dusky, desolate chamber

Sweat-marinated pallet,

voluntary walls of solitude

encircles his limp form.


Espy closely

Nature’s pure work,


by the insidious terrorist.

Observe the fevered brow,

the slowly dissipating wisp of energy.

See there, his face

a defeated visage of hopelessness.



It is late.

Don’t touch him,

Screamed the harried spectators.


Downward trickles

a single tear

through his wrinkles,

a manifest display

of the misery within.


Misty darkness filters through

the starlit skies.

Casting cold, grinning shadows

off the wasted figure.

Exposing ghoulish boils

on the ravaged skin.


Tightly, the bystanders gripped their noses.

“How foul the stench of death”.

Slowly, his agonized intake of breath

grows shallow by the minute.


Mercifully, the bells toll.

Another fare for the cart.

“Bring your dead”, it says languidly.

Another notch for the Reaper.


Alas for Adewale, darkness plagues

him still.

Locked on a pyre of corpses,

a match shall be lit…

His house razed.

Alas, abiding damnation

without purchase.


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Posted in: Poetry