The Clan Mourns.
The sound of drums......feeble murmurs, painful sobs
for the warrior a man so loved.
Over the hills one could hear
the echo of feet stomping ,prancing dancing
as they honor the dead.
Crows bark from boughs on high
Silent figures clad in black
grieve for one so loved ...a fearless warrior
one of a kind....loved life but feared not death.
Men wipe their eyes.....a tear drop lost
Little ones look askance at white clad ghosts
as fires spit and hiss spirits
wait to take a father to his ancestral home.
The drums speak...a message loud and clear
to all who would listen....to those who could hear
cherish life...love others today for tomorrow draws near.
Old women bent and wizened stoop over pots that boil
to feed the spirits and strengthen the soul
as candles burning bright guide the soul towards the light..
The dead is laid to rest....the earth embraces one
who lived and loved ....survived by stalwart sons
to carry on their father's work and burdens of their own.
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