Muttering voices

"Storms" When pain hits like a thunderbolt  Where do men run for cover? Where do grieving souls find succour? Many words were said to God Many words are now said by men Few retorts  Many silence  And darkness  Then the mourner walks silently, sullenly, and unsure Not knowing what each path will yield  But wishing any could end his grief. Life's a cracked palm kernel Offered by the gods You can never tell which will be bitter  And when it will be. Death is like a sudden darkness  That envelopes joy in mid-day  And deepens the pain of the suffering. Where do grieving souls go when death removes the thatched roof over their heads? 

 "Ifeanyichukwu" Your race was a short errand, Like a short-lived sprint; You ended yours in the heat of the moment  Who would blame you? Your path was thorny and scary Peopled with bruises and scars Inflicted by hands hiding in the dark. You had a brave heart That rose and fell with a warrior's tremor You fought for many as yourself  You fought with many and you fell. The fall caused a silent earthquake  Within your late father's obi The one you were called to watch over  With the eagles eyes. But you fell On a ground already wet with our tears of hope and prayer, But you fell Into silence that gnaws the heart  with sorrow forever.

 "Graveyard Tales" Dust to Dust Dust has come to dust For every man must bear his cross  And the boundary of life and death all must cross.  Does this word cross your thought? The glittering facades of life Makes the one eyed man forget his debt to blindness  He dances lavishly on another's grave Forgetting that his isn't far from his backyard. Suddenly joy is lost halfway between smiles Lips are crossed amidst laughter  The grave has eaten its sacrifice  And it is still hungry. 

 "My Funeral"   When it is my funeral, I won't let my ears be deafened by the noise of phoney mourners Weeping for no lost love Nor let their tears wet my parched grave. I will search their hearts than their faces I will listen to their thoughts than their praises I won't be swayed by the slippery words that lay at my feet. I will look for the purest grief  And warm my cold feet and hands there. I will look for the hearts that cheered my soul In the days when the midnight struck like a thief. I will promise blessings and vengeance  I will forerun their friends and outrun their foes. I promise not to let death win. I will be like Okonkwo that threw the cat that steals many lives. I will quench the fire of the hearth  Unsit the pot  And blow the ashes away I didn't ask for a feast but a farewell.  When that day comes, Refuse to carry your worries  Gag the whimpers of your doubts  Death will be my voyage to the finishing line.