They stood and bid their farewells
As they set her on her way.
On a journey to a foreign land
Its destination they knew not.
But as I looked upon that mate
Grew I envious of her though in a grave.
They say she has become late,
I say she has become free in that grave.
Yes! Her way was lonely and dark.
Yes! Her shelter was silent and cold.
Never again would she walk in the park.
Oh! She was not even so old.
They said her case was sad,
And i agreed.
They said it was very bad,
I said she has been freed.
No longer did she feel restricted
In a moulded cage of clay,
Because her spirit was no more confounded.
It was free anytime of day.
No longer was she to worry
About food, money, clothes and shoes.
Nor was she to be distressed
About teenage love, school, boys and the rest.
No longer was she to fear the future
Thinking of work, marriage and death.
Not knowing which will come before the other,
Even if she could juggle it all together.
And to think that she was saved,
Everyone knew her to be a saint.
In the arms of the one she most loved,
There was no need for her to faint.
So she is free
Of all the world’s traps.
Her spirit is free to spree
And even sit on her lover’s laps.
They speak of her sorrow,
But she feels no such thing.
I wish to join her on the morrow,
In such loving company.
Source:Ivylove Cudjoe
