Reflections

What makes us mournful at funerals?
Is it the memories we’ve made with the deceased
Or the memories we failed to create with them?
What moves us to tears at funerals?

Is it the things we said to the one lying lifeless in the casket,
Or the things we failed to say to them?

What makes us cry at funerals?
Is it the good times we shared with the one about to be lowered into the Cold bosom of the earth,
Or the good times we failed to share with them?

Tales of a traveller

tė Uzo chekwa ghu nwa m, 

said my grandma to me 

as I set forth on my journey. & her words, when loosely translated mean, 

“may the road be your guide, my child.” 

so here I am on the road, travelling with no distinct destination in mind, 

i, a born voyager, 

descendant of men 

who commune with the road. who call a place far from home, home. 

so I, before I drew my first breath had fellowship with the road. 

little wonder why I feel safest 

on the go. why my mind 

only finds peace in places 

far from my abode. Little wonder why only the road feels like home.

Obirija Somtochukwu is a freshman student of pharmacy at the University of Ibadan. An essayist and poet, he writes on social issues, his tribal identity and personal conflicts. 

In addition to writing, he plays football, table tennis and chess.