Below The Ground

Recently at a wake keep,

Of my Clans' man taken to his knee

He took the path of eternal sleep;

At the wake of his own last-supper meal

His linen plain garment askew,

His muted lips at the last muttered words,

His head tilted as if listening to the adieu

Maybe when below the ground he can hear the birds,

The precious sounds he once savored,

Maybe they sound now as discorded thoughts,

Those sweet scents we once flavored,

Maybe far below the ground it simply rots,

Piece by piece;

The flesh melts away to eternity;

Can this be the path way beyond?..

Lives drawn through the pipes of vanity

Lazarus was awoken

From the unstoppable slumber:

Can this be done again?

Many people plunder !

The guardians can no longer be found,

The warriors had since all gone below,

The journey below the ground..,

Traversed by ancestors that ruled long ago!

Under his watch, my clan was safer

His sandal would long be at lone and empty,

The journey below can be wavered,

The burden abounds to be gray and hefty;

We've once beaten a drum on this quest,

It hums beats for occasions like this;

Drums beaten by wailing chest,

Ushering the ghost to eternal bliss

He is gone and they have slept,

Yet he walks, but mortally unseen

He watches through the window of death

A thin space between life and un-being

Poem: “Below The Ground” by Olorunleke Odubote