Life After Suicide

LIFE AFTER SUICIDE In our barrenness, mourning reigned in our bosom Our wait conquered years, filled our bucket with tears. My wife taught me to give up, But Chidi’s arrival widened our joy-horizon. His birth birthed our real lives, Reflected his mothers image in my likeness, My pretty-smart son made us a home. Twelve months later started the civil war, Dodging bullets, we forgot our greatest asset In running for our lives, we ran from our life Risked it back to the battlefield, my boy was gone. My heart wept from his mother’s eye, another covenant with pain. His birthday was our only sweet memory, Hoping to celebrate his heroic return someday, but It wasn’t enough consolation for our undeserving loss. Years later, poverty and vengeance introduced us to a life of crime, We built a mud house by the village entrance, Entertaining strangers with death to possess their substance. One day, the lot fell on a certain man in clergy regalia, He acted like a lost son of the soil tracing his origin Such patriotism kills my zeal to send souls beyond, But my wife insisted I do the usual, again I gave up. Did the usual; he kicked that bucket of tears. But unusual was, his death interfering with my peace, Reluctantly I ransacked his luggage, found a photo An image of a smiling-innocent infant boy, I remembered snapping Chidi in that pose, just like him. As I observed and pondered, I heard my wife from behind ‘How much is in the bag’, my confusion responded with silence. When her curiosity sighted the cause of my dreary mood, It loosed a scream from her tongue, she ran to the cadaver, Stripped its panties, the butt birthmark was not faded. Confirming my suspicion, she fell dead after another scream. Still staring at the photo, I saw the image lying lifeless before me, Only then was I convinced that I killed my reason-for-living. At that point I didn’t wish for death, I wished I wasn’t born Wished we remained barren, wished the war ate him up. My son Chidi was my life, his death was my suicide That day turned my world to a morgue, I am a walking corpse.