A Call Poem by Jimoh Ibrahim

Through the end of the tunnel
Cutting across each phases
Where dimmed light pass
You will hear a call
Comming from that pleased hall
Yes, a call
When dust will go back to dust
Going far from mothers tent
Above the whirling and whistling
Of winds
Yes, a call
Something great will happen
Things so great that your figure
Becomes motherless
Heart becomes gripped
Brain will shut down completely
For only those who can take heart
Will wail at your still body
Because you have heard the call
When sous shall rest