Land Of The Bereaved, Home Of The Slave Poem by Adedokun Abdurrahman

Have you, dear brother have you?
Have you ever heard of a home
laying at the end of a silent path
But without a room for our little minds
To be plagued by doubt?
Have you heard of a home
Furnished with gravels and stones?
The end of the journey unknown
And other side of darkness to cross.
Have you dear brother, have you not known?
That you'd be left to the quietuede of the home?
That which you started building a myriad years ago.
And at you, stones shall be thrown
And handfuls of sand by your brethren, your own.
And though the tears might flow
Like waves; in the land of the bereaved,
Home of the slave
But, then they shall turn to leave.
You shall be left to the darkness of it.
And a life carved from your deeds.
And have you dear brother, have you?
Have you been told of the unknown dark to cross.
And where singly, you shall face your Lord?
Have you been told of your grave, your home?
Is it too early to build your own?
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