The Funeral

I wrote this poem after attending the funeral of my grandfather, a man who was very rich and influential in the town where he lived.

The rifle[1] spat towards the heavens,

The bullet punched the depressed air

With arrogance and gusto

Defying gravity for a moment.

 

My gaze was cast on the casket

As the yawning earth slowly swallowed it:

Luxurious and majestic as it was.

 

With my gaze rigid

Like the remains of my gogo[2]

In the almost gulped casket,

My imagination rolled into a trance:

The proud bullet was descending in disgrace,

Falling prey to the force of gravity.

 

The mighty have fallen.

Money is ashamed,

Fame is embarrassed.

(The higher you go the louder the bang when you fall)

---

[1] In Ngoni tradition a gun is fired during the funeral sermon of an important person.

[2] Grandfather

Reviews

[Girl With A Pen]

Wow! An excellent write! Great job

[MadalaJose]

Thank you friend

[Mary]

Such a powerful and well done poem! "Money is ashamed, Fame is embarrassed" woah!

[MadalaJose]

Thank you Mary for the review

[FaeryQueen]

oh, my goodness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[MadalaJose]

Thank you Khatoon for reading my poem