Friday, August 11, 2017


An eerie stillness succeeds the crude shock
As they see the termination of their life’s clock
The warmth when he lived gives way to the grim cold of death
That animal can consume someone even in his prime health

Friends reminisce, relative anguish
Even Foes forgive and join the languish
Stories emerge, nostalgia strengthens
In dire hopes that the inevitable lengthens

The son slowly readies for the formal last rites
The pain in his heart reaches tumultuous heights
He drenches his body from head to toe
Hoping it would drown the piling sorrow

Before proceeding he goes to his mother
Unable to face, he prostrates before her
She raises her hand, as if to bless
Something breaks in me, I become a mess

At no more than twenty six years of age
He is about to cremate his immediate lineage
I think through the heaviness for justification
I encounter blankness, and a lot of frustration

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