Unwanted Visitor

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You the quiet messenger
The custodian of the final gate of life
A friend called enemy
A brother called bastard
The carrier of life-taking axe
The warrior with blood thirsty sword
The unwelcome visitor in any household
The only one who wades
The lance that have silent princes

It is to you I speak
My farm awaits the rain
My barns await the yams
My bones are still strong
My flesh is still young
The road before me is still long
So when you are set to shoot your arrow
Point it only in the direction
That will not cross my path.
© Olatuja Oloyede

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