Death Chronicles – Part One


There is healing in your tears.

One truism in life is we are born to die, however what counts is how do you spend your journey from the cradle to the grave? Footsteps of ghosts echo in the corridors of my mind and I wonder where are you now? I was told flippantly by my elders death is a part of life, is that pearls of traditional wisdom? My tear drops have no room for expression. The stiff upper lip mentally is isolating and does nothing for my evolution. Am I yet to discover grief without internal processing?

When a husband slips into eternity, sadness cradles his widow and I am told ‘big girls don’t cry’ they suppress instead. A wise man once told me ‘there is healing in your pain’. I am surrounded by ‘so and so dead, Lord have mercy’. If you live a day, you live a lifetime. Death does not discriminate, neither is it sexist, ageist or prejudice.  My grief greets me at the door and I am told do not to trust no shadow after dark.


Behind your sorrow remember the happy yesteryear’s.


The one fact that we know, we are born to die, don’t ask me why. There is a riddle inside the coffin of where are you now? Are you smiling in the company of Angels or burning in the fiery lake. I hear whispers of death all around me, death is a part of life, right? Why are we sad? I am sad because our last words met with air and we will never correspond nor will I see your light again. There will never be another you. Created in God image, an original masterpiece. I pose these questions to you the reader:

“How many days left do you have on earth”?

“I don’t know”

“Are you happy”?

“I don’t know”

“Do you like your job”?


On your final day when your light departs from this earth, how would you like to be remembered? What legacy would you like to leave behind? Death is but one breath away, each day that we live, we are stepping closer to the grave. What ails you? How can you petition yourself to greatness? Harness the demons that torture you while you still capture your breath. Cry those tears out onto your pillow and own your grief. We all go back into the ground, we all turn to dust. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It is when you hear the birds sing again, you know you are healing.

This entry was published on September 7, 2013 at 11:51 pm. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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