Page 3 - Siyethemba Sibiya

P O E M

I heard the Creator grieve before the last chapter ended.

Nature was still but restless, tranquil but agitated.

With heavy hearts and misty eyes, heaven watched as the

closing scene unfolded.

I heard the Designer weep.

He used the winds to courier the stench of the lamented

life that lay on the pathway.

The whispers moved from one end of the suburb to the

I
other, proclaiming an inanimate life.

I

I wonder, whether those artic pavements knew that their

arms were the last to embrace his body before it grew cold.

They had his blood, cupped in their palms

when they did nothing but watch his breath

return to his Maker.

They held him in their arms, yet didn't bother to carry him

home...