That black shirt with design pockets I wore
as I started out that early morn,
to a friend’s house who was at mourn,
and with matching black pants I was not lost,
in the company of voices of sorrow not on plot,
but were of convenience caused by the departure,
of he that never, ever cared nor loved.
A silent; speechless dirge by a drunk,
bro with Zed was denounced and dunk,
by the M.C who requested for a sober,
acquintance to stand in and lober,
for thanks to the crowd’s presence at this time,
of need his speech was eloquent; elating; got a dime,
from a drunkard aligned to the frozen one.
A heart rendering, rupturing; reverberating speech,
by the sister-in-law of the motionless one drove,
almost everyone to tears; seemed to have brought a dove,
that perched on top of the room that housed,
the mourned one, however, her ordeal rested on,
the children left behind, “who will take care,
of your kids? What wrong did we dare,
did..? And she continued no more,
as tears and emotion overtook her.
Now everyone was directed into that room were he was,
for the final farewell; I had decided not to go in,
but a hand grabbed, gripped and gaoled me into the,
queue that led us closer to him that could not,
answer the questions that were posited.
As I drew closer to that brown box; gazed,
inside I saw the man who had gathered us all:
he lay still, motionless and seemed to revoke,
everything that was said about him but could not poke,
those who said it as he lacked enough grace,
to spring to his feet and dismiss us at his pace,
but like a lizard enjoying the sun on a
rock he kept his cool.
After body viewing we went to the final,
route and the bumpy pot – holed road; nail
that kept the release on the tyre,
authenticated the event, we stood at the cemetery,
as the Pastor spoke the Word and prayed,
whilst everyone bowed but from the Sermon,
one final shovel full of dust dismissed
us all as he was interred.