He lay tall and lanky
Like
the lily pods
Hanging
loosely and expectant
Like
the deep insides of the pit
Where
he would soon lay to rest
Dressed
to the trunk white
His
eyes tightly shut
Like
he is shy of our stares
Confined,
he lay horizontal
Mounted
on top of fresh moors
Awaiting
a somber send off
Quiet
sobs and hymns
Fused
in rhythm
Climaxing
to end
In
ululations and chants
As
the choir sang
In
harmonies distorted
Drowned
in sorrow
To
usher in the final sermon
Read
in haste
To
proclaim his return to dust, ash to ash
Said
in subdued intonations
A
plea to his maker
To
free him of all his sins
Through
misty eyes
He
was eulogized
As
the epitome of good
A
paragon of virtue
Yet,
his death a paradox
And
as the sole of his casket
Ramped
in intercourse with the ground
And
quick shovels scooped to fill
Two
large tears
Rushed
to escape my eyes
Bidding
him his farewell
And
in defiance I turned my back
Slipping
past all the rest
To
my own world in nostalgia
No comments:
Post a Comment