At the age of five I watched her tiptoe to my neighbors house,
Lured him out to dance at the river bank.
I wonder if she pet his head before letting him go like a little mouse.
Does every person see her like an angel but of a different rank?
Since then In shadows deep, I softly tread,
A whisper in the silent dread.
She held my mother’s hand with heavy heart,
Inevitably I know from me they must depart.
Through veils of mists I watch her gently guide,
A soul untethered, by her side.
But as I see them walk this path, I question if it’s one of woe. With my fleeting breath I feel the
tears that silently flow.
For in the echoes of the night,
I wonder does she hear my cries, my mournful plight,
Of families left behind in sorrow’s embrace,
Our hearts now empty, aching space.
Does she see our faces, filled with pain,
Slowly more than quickly my loss like thunder, pouring rain?
I learnt to love that soul now in her care.
Is my anguish not heavy in the air?
Oh, how it weighs upon my soul.
Does she not witness the grief beyond control?
Does she know that love, so pure and true,
Must now bid farewell, forever new?
Yet in the midst of grief and tears,
She offered solace, calming my fears.
That though she led my loved one away,
In memory’s light, she’ll always stay.
I hope as they journey through the night,
She holds my mother’s hand, a gentle light.
She offer comfort in the dark,
A guiding presence, a fragile spark.
For though she is Death, with somber grace,
She carry my loved ones souls to a peaceful place,
And though this goodbye may pierce my heart,
Love endures, never to depart.
Bio:
McClara Chense is a second year student pursuing her Bachelor of Arts degree in English in Zambia.
