Time is a cruel hand
As I look up at the sky’s
Might constellations;
And weep like a widow
For my heart is wet as a bomb
Death is cold
I am so cold
As I use the rusted spade
To penetrate the wet soil
Deeper and deeper-
To dig your final place of rest
Your final goodbye
Death is cold
Prophetic souls sang in union
Dust to dust;
Ashes to ashes
And I brewed barrels of tears
In that hour; fair friend
I died a thousand deaths
Death is like a pebbled shore
It leaves stains of broken souls
*Inspired by the death of a close friend.
Written by: Abel Mfundo Dantyi