When
it’s my time to leave,
Do
dig a big grave,
For
I will be having company by my side,
Don’t
grieve too much either
Just
a few tears for my good ol’ soul
Read
a verse and sing a merry hymn,
Dance
for a life well lived,
Read
my poems and light candles,
Smile
and be brave,
Then
lay me beside her little form,
So
that I hold her close again,
And
tell of stories of the world I had seen,
The
wars, the blood-shed, the famines and diseases of pests,
Stories
of racism, xenophobia and tribalism,
Of
African children that died of hunger, the floods, preventable calamities,
I
will pull a little history,
Of
Gaddaffi’s death and the unfortunate events of fought freedom,
The
long awaited uprising in Africa,
And
the liberation we lived to see.
When
you lay me beside her,
I
will tell the good tales of love, to be loved and how to love,
Narratives
of the sister and brother she saw not,
Will
tell the stories of grandma and grandpa, uncle and aunty
How
we all missed her though in our hearts she lived,
Then
will hold her tight and never let her go,
When
it’s my time to leave,
Lower
the casket with ease,
Don’t
be in a hurry lest I break a bone
I
want to go in full,
Dressed
in a short black dress
Lay
me beside her
So
forever I will be at peace.
..from my book excerpt, An African Ode, the Other side of Black.
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