A Time To Mourn Poem by Mpho Ramaano
A Time To Mourn
some ailment ate my father,
they say he died of pulmonary tb,
his death certificate says so too.
with pressed lungs and loose stomach
he lay helpless at van velden hospital
rush gnawed at his worn-out body.
muscles withered away
like cattle gripped by hostile drought.
45 years of age – never married,
my father was a truck driver,
a church man –
people’s “man” too.
he perished in the claws of venial sickness
in his sleep – silenced by pain
18 children orphaned.
we buried him last week,
tears poured like torrential rains
anger of unfinished business,
and a life gone too soon.
people are afraid to write this kind of poems, well done i think they somehow make you accept the pain you are going through. thanks for sharing.
My condolences my friend... death comes to all of us! Good tribute to your father, top marks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:30:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
To be honest, at times you'll realize that a quick reason for 'cause of death' is groped in the atmosphere just to get rid of the case. R.I.P. (I think death lifts your muse to mountaintop, I also enjoyed heavy emotions in your poem about your uncle's death - no wonder it was the first poem in New Coin literary journal. A bore Tsitla!)