DEATH Poem: Lamentations, by Johnpaul Simiyu

I am loathe to forget that grey stone on the banks of River Rui.
How can I? You and and I sit there every evening after all.
The memory always starts with us getting lost in stories of a past we misplaced.
But something feels different now.
Unlike yesterday, the sentence of your laughter fails to mature into a roar.
You see the grey clouds demanding the start of the morning
and you climb down from the perch along with the flowing waters.
You walk the other way, and the water slides into the fire.
The yellow fire turns into soup, red soup, sticky and angry.
It approaches my feet with a steady hiss, and I clamber to the edge of
the ledge from which you dove.
From a distance, your chapped lips coil into a sentence.
but I am grabbed by the collars of my shirt before you can whisper,
and I wake up in pieces.
The bedside mirror reveals all the broken parts.
You slip from me every time,
You never live long enough for me to believe
that you are already dead.

Author: poetryfest

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