BULLETS BEFORE BREAD

Emmanuel Ekperigha

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Wednesday 13 August 2025

BULLETS BEFORE BREAD

If tomorrow starts without me—
these will be my thoughts,
for I will have no voice by then.

Here I lie, gazing down upon the most hypocritical world in the cosmos:
I never knew a Juliet Rose was cheaper than a parcel of meal—
not until my demise.

Sadly, I’m another victim of the endless herdsmen attacks.
How lucky, they’d say—
at least mine was a bullet, not the slow blade of a machete.
The same officials who failed to protect me
were honored with standing ovations at my funeral.
Strange, isn’t it—
how little human life matters to them,
yet we grant them triumphal entries at the smallest excuse.

It’s funny how the dead draw such belated attention—
the very meals I once hungered for are served on my funeral day.
Perhaps death brings its own good fortune,
but never for the one six feet under.

It’s my funeral day, and condolence letters—
heavier than my still body and casket combined—
pour in from every corner of the earth.

Take back your condolences—turn them into food for the living.
Refund the Juliet Rose; it could school a hundred children.
The way you crossed oceans for my funeral,
cross those same waters to save the children in the Middle East.
Give the living the justice and protection you denied me in life.
Let the living tend to their own,
and the dead keep company with their kind.

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BULLETS BEFORE BREAD

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