A Christmas Funeral
I had to cry on the inside,
As aunty laid spread on the Kitchen floor weeping.
She somewhat gathered herself and stood sobbing,
“They shot him” were words that escaped her lips
And she repeated these words like a lullaby
Calming herself to Tranquil like state
But she still wore disbelieve on her face, we all did.
For she had lost her husband and I had lost my uncle
I had to forget
For a little while I pretend he was alive and well,
I could at least find some kind of solace in being oblivious.
Self-inflicted amnesia was like a drug, with each dose my mind grew tolerant
Until my mind finally withdrew from Pretend
And reality came like waves swoosh all I had built
All these boundaries intended to protect and shield
Against the brutal realisation that I lost you for Christmas.
His Mother shed no tears
Grand ’ma wore black, a strong face and Stared at walls.
She often did this in times of loss, but this time things were different
One could see through her silence, her eyes heavy
As the eyes always told when carrying a heart’s weight,
What could she do? , as being strong was almost entirely her nature.
I always hated and admired this about her,
Her ability swallow her pain and shoulder the world on her back.
It was a dull Christmas
I woke to the scent of paraffin and fire wood
And women cooking outside sang sad songs
Followed by baritone voices conversing in the background.
Christmas jingles were replaced church hymns
And the gift of family remained present.
His absence was deeply missed, as it saddened our hearts
For in this Christmas funeral , we came together.
Copyright © Ronny Madonsela | Year Posted 2016
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