THRENODY: "WE WERE LIKE YOU" BY B.M. MKAMANGA

We were like you,

Told of the grave's cold creak,

Heroes die, its inevitable, 

We now sleep and snore no more,

Our bones,  a mere pile of sand

But our stories live on

Like a sign post that can't talk.

Our skeletons sleep, silently snoring 

Our songs are now silent,

Our voices mute

But we were once like you

All strong and brave for nothing.

Death came and shook our roots 

It's cold fingers reached out,

Like autumn leaves, we wither away 

Don't be swindled when you see our last plots 

Each has one and some none

But all men must die no matter the longevity 

Run man! run! but he shall find you

The he wolf that knows no sleep 

You are all but a bunch of play to be eaten

We were like you in warm clothes,

But we now slumber,

Osh! The grave's cold creak

"O Death, your grasp is cold,

Who shall live forever?"

©️ Bonnieventle Moses Mkamanga (The Silent Speaker) 

-Zimbabwe

This elegiac poem contemplates mortality, addressing readers with a haunting reminder that death is inevitable. The speaker, likely deceased, connects with the living ("We were like you"), highlighting life's transience. Vivid imagery ("grave's cold creak", "autumn leaves, we wither away") evokes death's cold grip. The tone's somber, reflective, and cautionary, urging awareness of mortality's universality. Legacy ("stories live on") offers a glimmer of comfort amidst death's darkness.