—“There I laid dead”—
(The untold fate)
And it came to pass
that the river would
calm her nerving ripples.
I was dead, and time sweeping me away
like the swash of an empty sea.
Time has folded her palms,
sealed her lips and clipped her tongue.
Beside my corpse stood my silent soul,
with reminiscing trails of yesterday.
This night before these neighbours,
lonesomeness shares her lips with me.
The casket breathing impatiently for my blanched body.
I could feel the sobriety in Mama’s heart,
and of Papa’s man-no-cry raining tears.
This young life has been benumed
beyond the unforgiving eyes of time.
No amount of implores of breasts of mothers
was heard by the contumacious ears of death.
There behind the Cathedral,
laid a life of innocence and tenderness;
waiting to be called home finally
by the wishes of ash and dust.
Times without numbers;
shadows without feet,
and bats without feathers,
go tell the priest that
at last the earth calls my name
for a rest inside her hade.
The Village Thinker © 2014