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ifebuche
ifebuche
The Grief of Death
Translations available in: English (original) | French | Spanish | Italian | German | Portuguese | Swedish | Russian | Dutch | Arabic

This morning I woke up to some grief
I heard a death shrill over the air
So suddenly did it pierced the skies
That the calm air was thrown into turmoil
The skies shuddered and birds scared
Hairs stood up all over my terrified body

God gives and he takes
He creates and calls the stakes
We come on loan
And sometimes no matter how much we moan
We still at his bidding live
No matter how much we try not to leave

Three months before the end of the year
Sometimes on the second day after the fifth
It was hardly a couple and an hour before midnight
Before I could finally shut the doors of my eye
Came such scary shrill in a baritone
The next second I was crashing the stairs half naked

The sad part was that we could do nothing
Then anything we did was too late
We had to carry my own father, dead
There was not time to try to save him
There was no attempt because there was no chance
Finally we carried him out and buried him

So, whenever you see me musing all by myself
Or gathering words in a deep recollection
I am declaring that I have been there
When He took one and rather very forcefully
I could only ask one question: ‘Why’
‘Why now’ ‘Why here’ ‘Why like this’

November 21, 2008 | 3:37 AM Comments  0 comments

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