He has fallen out of the parade of life,
So we farewell him with pints of precious tears,
Embroid the log in his best attire,
Smear the motionless figure with odorous spice.
So we farewell him with pints of precious tears,
Embroid the log in his best attire,
Smear the motionless figure with odorous spice.
Into church and then out of church,
A stately procession in silence,
With all heads inclined forward,
A stately procession we march out of our village
And into his village.
A village for the aged in need of rest,
A village for the fallen new,
A village lined with cracked wooden crosses,
A village lined with sad brick crosses,
Where tears roll loose on the part obliterated letterings.
At last we come to a spot
Where mother lies waiting,
Dear old mother with gaping mouth -
And that's where we lay him down,
Right down near the lips of the mother,
A mother with a perfect appetite,
Who waits to munch him to soft powder.
Where mother lies waiting,
Dear old mother with gaping mouth -
And that's where we lay him down,
Right down near the lips of the mother,
A mother with a perfect appetite,
Who waits to munch him to soft powder.
There we lower him down,
Down into her bloodless system,
And when she binds her mouth of soil,
We remember our own fall too.
Jack Lahui (20th century) Papua New Guinea
Source: Modern Poetry from Papua New Guinea, Volume I, Edited by Nigel Krauth and Elton Brash, Papua Pocket Poets, 1972
Down into her bloodless system,
And when she binds her mouth of soil,
We remember our own fall too.
Jack Lahui (20th century) Papua New Guinea
Source: Modern Poetry from Papua New Guinea, Volume I, Edited by Nigel Krauth and Elton Brash, Papua Pocket Poets, 1972
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