Death called to her
A tribute to my friend Cynthia
By L.J
Death called to her
It whispered her name in
the shadows
It crept in the shadows
of her room
It stole the light of day
from her
‘Come unto me!’ It said.
Death called to her
Right from birth she was
destined to be its’ friend
It stole her mother upon
child birth
Her father remarried, a
wicked soul emerged
Anguished, she always
felt
‘Come unto me!’ It said.
Death called to her
The wicked soul stole her
innocence
An adult woman, she grew
fast to become
She fought and strived
for survival
‘Come unto me!’ It said.
Death called to her
A matatu knocked down a motorcycle
A scream filled the air,
and then silence
It took him away, a
father from a child
Her major source of
comfort and survival
‘Come unto me!’ It said.
Death called to her
With nowhere left to call
home, she left
Moved in with the first
man she met
She forgoe continuing
with her education
All hope in life had she
lost
‘Come unto me!’ It said.
Death called to her
A few months later, it
whispered again
Loudly this time
The ground mourned the loss
of a young one
From dust you came and
from dust you return
‘Come unto me.’ The
ground accepted her
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