Death be not Proud

Death be not Proud: Journey to the Grave
By: Joy Ngoma


He lay in the well‐fitted dark rectangular box
Eyes shut, both hands nicely placed in front of his lifeless body
Legs stretched out, A peaceful sleep indeed
No bells ringing
No lightning in his view
No thunder rumbling
Just his body content to the unknown journey of death
Soul floating in the clear blue sky
Spirit moving to the rhythm of an open field
It is not a battle of survival
It is not a battle of mortality
It is a peaceful journey
A journey once taken by his stretched out feet.
A tender voice whispers, “Walk no more soldier it’s time to rest”
A one‐way road with no return
A defeat in the death‐boxing match
Peace has taken over his body
No chaos in this box‐ just a peaceful shelter
Those who knew him cried of a loved one lost too soon
Those who loved him cried of a treasured soul lost
His soul no longer yearning
No tears to be shed
Just a peaceful soul to be celebrated by those left behind
It’s a journey to the grave, destination unknown
Only the afterlife awaited him
Free birds waiting at the golden gates for his soul
They call it a home
Eyes shut, both hands nicely placed in front of his lifeless body
Legs stretched out, A peaceful sleep indeed
No bells ringing
No lightning in his view
No thunder rumbling
He calls it home.