Looking so frail yet so strong
Head held up gracefully and
Her face gives no emotion away
When she stares at you though
You can almost touch the pain held within

She meets my eyes and turns away
And I feel myself turn away too
Just that am not that strong
So I allow the tears to flow
‘ he was a good man….’
The rest of the words are swept away
By the winds or I just didn’t want
Any of that word ‘was’
It was the man of God
Doing the part they gave him
‘Soils to soils….
I can’t get to hear everything
Murmurs everywhere ‘ he was so kind’
Why can’t they shut up
and respect the dead?
The woman walks away after
A handful of soils into the grave
Head still held high, no tears
I stare at her and wonder
How she does manage that.

She watches the crowd eat
To their fill and walk away
And to her what is left is a big void in her heart
Screams come from her main house
She hurriedly walks towards it so afraid, of what she would find.

The brother to the dead is fighting
His newly found wife over their newly bought house
She feels herself give in
A wave of rage sweeps over her
Her so hard practiced facade is lost and she hears herself scream
‘ it is your own brother’s burial
Can’t you respect even the dead for a day??’
Her shouts weaken and she turns to keep the tears from flowing
Weakly she utters ‘ go away, just go away ‘ and as she tries to walk away, she simply passes out
A frail figure is all I can see,
She hadn’t realized in trying so hard to be strong, she had weakened and in times of pain, pursuit of strength is only by
Just crying it out

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