I know what death is

I know what death is It is the sad atmosphere of nothingness which takes residence where laughter and voices once lived. Its the absence of matter Which once stood here and there That walked, that sang, that loved, that lied, that feared, that reaped That now lays in stillness Immobile in its stance Over there in the sands I know what death is Its the hollow clasp of an embrace now empty of what was there before The Warm Sweet lips of dear Bola who once kissed me now: Pale, cold and sealed for good. It is a supper table of five seated sadly, Where six once chatted off gladly I know what death is Its the call of the dust Like the muezzin does; To those who stood just and unjust The echoes go past The house of the old frail man lying on his bed in the arms of his posterity as they kiss his head The drug dealer just shot in the head: gasping, crawling to what was his prize now his death It bids them welcome to the crematorium, the cemetery, the evergreen fields… As their wish or demise deems fit I know what death is Its the singular and long sustained beep of the cardiac monitor accompanied by the flattening out of its waves For now the patient is qualified for funeral rites Its the gentleman withholding the sycthe who took poor Racheal’s with him I know death He is the black adorned faceless chap who danced every time there were mishaps that … Continue reading →

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