For a while now, I'd been complaining to everyone who cared to listen, of my writer's block- how I've had no motivation to write at all. Yesterday, after a series of similar sad stories in the past months, the story of my friend losing his friend to a sad death broke the ice. I wrote this to help with some of my heart's tension.
Life is fickle
Its uncertainties sweep me off my feet in recent times, more than I have anticipated.
Lately, I've been contemplating ‘the end’ more than I'd like
Before now, I used to think that I was unafraid of the inevitability of death.
If dying means going back home
Home where I won't have to drag my feet to wake up mandatorily at 6am to pray and go on to make breakfast/lunch for my working class parents and little sister
Home, where I can sleep for hours in the daytime uninterrupted by people or headaches from the heat
Before now, I'd accepted death as what it is, ‘inevitable’
Lately, I find that I'm getting more than a little scared
The scare of my life so far, ending abruptly
So many have left; forcefully, cruelly, unprepared.
I've witnessed my friends lose more than two of their friends in the past year
Death suddenly seems too close.
Everytime, it's one sad story or another
We read narrations of how people went on small errands and never came back
More painfully, how they went on a mission that seemed like an opportunity for better, but never returned.
20 year olds, 21, 22, 18, 16!
Suicide songs have lost their rhythm because incessant deaths have taken over.
For everyone bleeding, I pray for healing
For everyone feeling scared and confused, I pray for peace
For me, I pray my story lasts longer than my 50s.
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