The last bed

In her lahad she was made to lay,
towards sunnat, towards the kibla,
towards the direction of eternal hope.

"Nga kitalo..."

They prayed in unison,
even those that came with a vision;
to dine on last supper.

"Nga kitalo..."

She watched as they wailed with feeble lungs,
she must have been over joyed; peace, at last
despite the selfish gathering sending her back into earth.

"Nga kitalo..."

From her two and a half by eight feet grave,
she dropped her white cerecloth,
and rose to the sky with her face in bliss..

"Nga kitalo..."

The family re-united for the wrong yet right reason,
it's amazing how far apart they'd grown,
at least they got the chance to come back home

"Nga kitalo..."

They said on and on,
making my glass eyes crack-
close to breaking point...

"Nga kitalo..."

Broken, my pieces lay on a shoulder,
I'm supposed to be stronger but she's older,
I'm supposed to be supportive but she too was my jaja.

"Nga kitalo..."

Her son now fakes a smile-
behind blood shot eyes,
yet she'll never pick up the pieces...

"Nga kitalo..."

we can only hope and pray,
that she's high flapping her wings-
far enough where angels sing.

"Nga kitalo..."

Besides sorrow her death brought;
a new born and a fresh bond was wrought;
daughter from father, daughter and father,
finally, the sun rose

"Ekitalo tikigwesa kitabo..."