TIME : The Lost Boy Child
This flower that grows through the smile of the rain and that which dies
from the gnashing teeth of the sun; time it is that happened to them both.
The boy child in the ignorance of his own time, dipped his hands in things
he should have steered away from, time came and dealt with him:
Tell Nathaniel it’s his fault that he met his death at a time like this. 5
years in the University and on the day of his passing out parade in the
NYSC, was shot dead by boys whom he’d made to shed tears years back in
campus when he took down one of their own. And the pain he caused them
lingers on in their mind till this moment of brutal ending. He thought he’d
escaped time, not knowing that it waited for him and now has finally caught
up with him.
Ask Siddiq why he didn’t decline when they came with flashy things to
entice him? People who’s job is to make others cry by robbing them of their
hard earned money in the dark hours of the night. He’d forgotten that
everyone’s destiny and time is different; his first outing with them and he
shot someone dead because his blood was boiling, and when the men in black
came up against them, only him was arrested while the rest of the gang took
to their heels. Now he’s serving life in a place where hope is far from
Why’s death and time so unpredictable? Why didn’t they write us before they
happen to us ?
Sometimes, I look at my peers, those we grew up together who’d already made
it, and that man who’s death knocks at the door soon without anything to
leave behind for his young warriors after all his years of fruitless
toiling, and I also look at myself; then I questioned whether time is
biased in dealing with us all.
Sometimes, I get so down and I look up to the sky waiting for the stars to
fall in line, hoping that it’d lead me very far away from where I am, far
from the miseries of life; forgetting that the stars don’t come out until
it’s their time and maybe when they did come out, they wouldn’t lead me far
away as I’d wished because their time is for them while mine is for me and
going far away is left to the time that’s appointed to me.
Death is an insult. And so is time. Death and Time enslaved us because we
don’t get to choose our death and our time, they choose for us.
So dear boy child, would it not be good to wait for your time as running
ahead of time is a great catastrophe.
Read this important poem here
About The Writer
Adeshina Abiodun Emmanuel is a young man whose love for writing is is coupled with passion. His works focus mostly on short stories, documentaries, poetries etc. He is currently studying French at The Nigeria French Language Village, Badagry, Lagos.