At a Funeral

They have come for your funeral Their looks belie ‘their hearts When you needed them Their backs turned on you Now shamelessly and hypocritically They drag those sacrilegious legs To profane your last rest in life. All you got from them Were whimpers, envying and backbiting Now they cover their infamous faces With white hankies White in contrast To this solemn event Not less of concealing their last laugh at you yes they laugh, since you bit the dust before them ‘Dust to dust Ashes to ashes…. What is theirs? They do not lose! Devil incarnates! They cannot wait to attend the reception Their disgusting guts shall be full. Come today barely three days back they came revelling And seeking pleasure in the arms of damsels At your expense How the wheel turns! They have forgotten so soon you who served and catered for them whenever you could You, without bias, attended to their various needs Like Cleopatra’s maid. Now you lie there in stillness The stifling hands of death hold you motionless not moving, not talking why don’t you stand up And bring their jeers to shame? Alas! You shall fear, ache, breathe and See no more But can’t you see around your grave side that some of the people never liked or knew you existed? They are here as guarantors and possible witnesses to see you firmly and finally incarcerated in that airless rest place Oh! A gross miscarriage of justice! Look towards your wife how she stands weeping but are the tears real? Your trusted friend stands Beside gloating Dressed more like an entertainer Than a mourner See how he places his hand On her shoulders Consoling her? That hand is more or less caressing than of comfort my friend your wife is no longer a widow Right here by your grave side an oddity is being perfected Salacious minds they still keep the primrose path. Without flagging or failing your fatherless children are aghast Even your aged mother stupefied beyond redemption It was so sudden and though your brothers and sisters hold them a new life of toil, hardship and squalor may await them. What of your prized possession which your pilfering relatives have equally shared? Never mind the children should be your assets and judge the atrocities inflicted on you Though you have gone to return no more Sleep well for even if man forgets this tomb, never its occupant Sleep well! My dear friend Adieu! Till we meet to part no more. By Ohiozoba Ehiede