Two years ago with love aflame…
I’d spent the last hour smiling sheepishly over every irrelevant thing as I walked the path that leads home through the woods and meadows after seeing her. The evening sun is falling so fast in the far west, and I struggled to keep pace before night fell. But you know when night fall, it falls without any prior warning. If you do not understand time, the arrival of darkness is the only milestone that will tell you the night is here.
The hope of getting Àṣàkẹ́ to be mine crashed same way summer sun crashed through the blue sky to rest at dusk of the day. The only difference is that the summer sun will rise in the wake of another day, and my hope of getting her will not. It will be in the grave dead and long gone, even though it’s ghost lingers on around in my memory—the ghost haunts.
Àṣàkẹ́ had announced four years earlier, that she will prefer I stay a friend than a lover. But I will not take a no. I’d thought my water might melt the rock by lingering a while longer. Even though Awoyinfa told us both not to dare love, let alone marry.
The oracle’s word each time forewarn of impending danger and the sickness that might affect our children. Àwo said of sacrifice that might cost us our joy, the marriage, and our lives. Àṣàkẹ́ once heard of tales of war that rock a union she knew so well like the back of her hands. She knew the sacrifices Awo was talking about; hence, she won’t dare cross the waters. So she severe the tie and swore by the Wise One never to dare. It broke me.
My hope and my heart buried with it is almost two years in the grave. Still, the oracle came visiting me with words, sight and sound to show the bleakly future that would have been mine but that ended because Àṣàkẹ́ was not a coward like me.
I had paid a visit to Awoyinfa when Adio and Alake were mourning the passing of their only child, Romoke, who was believed to be abiku. All the prescribed sacrifice to tie Romoke to life got no hold on her as she did not only die with the sacrifice. She went with the titillation of emotion, the joy in their lives as couples, and I can visibly see the love they once shared long dead before them. The only thing tying them together was the joint effort to keep Romoke alive, and today she’s gone to the world beyond. Every shovel of sand on her remains is actually a shovel of sand over the love life they once shared. The love had wrecked them, and they’re set to part ways out of tiredness caused by fruitless labour.
When the burial rite was done, Awoyinfa looked at me and said, “see what the oracle bought over from you with four years instead of a bland lifetime filled with avoidable sacrifices.” He need not say more I know better today. Àṣàkẹ́ saved us. She was selfless and did not allow the feeling.
Nobody is smarter than a soldier that has not been to the war front. At the swing of a sword, such can slay a thousand legions with his mouth. I was that soldier who will want to give it all despite repercussion. I’d wanted brass shoe, but the price will cost both legs and an arm. When the shoe comes, where will I wear it?
What the oracle saw was AS genotype that Àṣàkẹ́ and I carry. Read all over again with this new information. And see if every other thing makes any sense.