RIP, dearest cousin Amani Kweka
We crumbled as you slipped by
leaving a trail of doting memories.
A son passed away yesterday night.
If November was to delay this tragedy
I would bribe it with dozen of poppies.
But, consolation is God’s instrument.
Raindrops drumming on the roof
an orchestra of heavenly reception.
He dwells now among great angels.
No ordinary or majestic living gesture
shall replace this son’s jovial mortality.
He remains fondly inscribed in hearts.
Nothing is lost, if we care to grieve
with a smile and laughter of what was.
He was named Peace for our consolation.