THE DEAD CHILD

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Dead child

THE DEAD CHILD

A POEM
I stood stock still; like an engraved stature
As I beheld the bundle-in it lay one loved and nurtured
Cared for by his people, raised by their loving breath
Only to be snatched away by the cold, eager hands of death.

Out came his sisters, wailing in anguish
Their tears tell the depth of their sorrow
That in pain they would now languish
That without their kin they would have to face tomorrow

The crowd stopped; stilled by their grief,
By the memory of a light as bright as it was brief
And a memory, that was all he would be
Like beauty to a man never again to see

“Let’s go” my brother urged me home
But still I stood; bound to their pain
The pain of witnessing a destiny stopped before it began
And where a boy died before he became a man

It’s a cruel world; that I was harshly reminded
A world where those worth living, die
I hoped that with him God’s love and mercies would stay
As the ambulance and its occupant, pulled away.

From one of our very best, Nnayielugo

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