PASSING BY THE CEMETERY (by Joshua Omenga)

It was a dark and inky night
Drab, like the sterility of early December
You may still perceive
The leftover of the season’s ilk… 


I peered through the iron gate
Behind, the stone columns
Lined like astral haze,
Some blurry marks on a giant’s grave


They are the still reminders
Of man’s eternal enclave,
The dark sepulchral domicile
Where dwell the bodies of the bygone

 And I saw it all

The old graves and the new ones
Some painted and tiled
Others sore reminders of mortality


I stood behind the gate
And listened to the silence of the night
Ah, their voices have been silenced –
The still members of that community!


For them there is no more laughter
For them there is no more striving
The stress of life has found assuage
In the feel of nothingness…


And I came away
I, Omenga, with heavy heart;
I came away to compose their plaintiff strain
These whose voices are forever stifled


One day too my voice will be stifled
When I shall lay in that unsung garden
And the air shall frolick over my tomb
And rodents shall toy with my bones…


Who shall sing my lyre
In that dark hour
When inexistence claims me,
When my voice is silenced forever?


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