By T.n Jele

 
I HAD A THOUGHT OF A TWENTY YEAR OLD
SINKING INTO AN UNTIMELY GRAVE,
THE WISTFULLNESS AND DEATH AWAITED THE BRAVE,
SHE DIED BUT WAS FULL OF LIFE AND SO FAIR,
A FLOWER THAT WITHERED BEFORE IT BLOOMED,
ANDRIES WESSELS HERSELF IN PEACE LAY DOWN
HER BURDENS,
I NEVER SAW A WOMAN BREATHE HER LAST IN FRONT OF ‘I,
MORE TRANQUILLY.
SHE KEPT ON MURMURING WITH HEAVENLY HOSTS
AND INVISIBLE CHOIRS OF ANGELS AROUND HER,
THESE ANGELS WERE OF MEDIUM SIZE AND HAD CLOVEN HOOFS,
AND.. SADLY THEY WERE ALL LAID TO REST.

Written by Thembile Nicholas Jele/Twala in 2015

Death, Pain, young

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