Death Poem by Rosemary Chipo Sithole

Oh how dark you are
A misty subject I can never fathom
A visitor whose origin I will never know
Nor whose coming I will ever foretell
Your trail is never predictable
Neither is your timing ever foreseeable

You are a regularity I can never become accustomed to
How you surprise me each time I cannot comprehend
Each bout comes with a new agony
Each attack with a new victim
Each spell with a new hoax
Each pierce on a new point

Each time you befall, a part of me falls away
Living me in existence yet with an inner demise
With lushness yet withered
Being me yet not me
Unable to perceive the part you sever

I have never seen such a gluttony
With a belly that can never be filled
A hunger so not satiable
A thirst so not quenchable
A desire so not fulfillable

When will you stop?
Have the rivers of tears not yet filled your gourd?
Have the pounds of flesh net yet filled your silos?
Has the pain inflicted not yet atoned you?