The Old Men Poem by Konjit Berhane

On the surrounding of the cemetery on our neighborhood
Just to count the sitting old men I once stood
Each and every one of them is above sixty
Who used to love to take a walk in the city

Now they seem to enjoy the view from the cemetery
Talking and joking on the place where some day (they) will be buried
I once was told that one of them is a guard
On which to identify him is very difficult

They sit early in the morning to get the warmth of the sun
And in the late afternoon to see it gone
At night they would read from the Bible some versus
And sleep praying and asking to stay another day to rehearse

But you would hear one of them died every month or two
Now they are becoming less and less, few
The seats that used to be crowded
Are becoming more and more dispersed

One day an old man was moving his lips but there wasn’t a word
After a while he grabbed his heart and fall as if shot by a sword
They say he died of a heart attack
On the next day on his burial I wished him good luck.

26 October,05