Go Down Death

(For Mama Wangari Maathai)

Weep not, weep not!

She’s not dead, she is resting on the breast of Jesus

Heart broken son, weep no more
Grief stricken Kenyans, she’s not gone
She’s only seen home.

Day before yesterday morning

God was looking down from His great high heaven

Looking down at an earth she strived to restore to Eden
And His eye fell on her - Mama Maathai,
Tossing in her bed of pain
And God’s big heart was touched with pity
With everlasting pity!

God sat back on his throne
To the tall bright angel at his right
He ordered, ‘call me Death’
And with a voice that broke like the clap of thunder
The tall bright angel cried
‘Call Death, call Death!’
The call went down heaven’s streets
Until it reached that shadowy place
Where Death waits with his pale white horses.

Death heard the call
And jumped onto his fastest horse,
A horse as pale as a sheet in the moonlight.
Up the golden street, Death rode
The hoof of his horse struck fire from gold –
But it didn’t make a sound.
Up Death rode to the great white throne
And waited for a command from God.

God said; go down Death, go down.
Go down to Africa, Kenya, down in Nairobi
Go and find Mama Maathai.
She’s borne the heat and burden of the day
She’s weary, tired
Her strength retired
Go down Death and bring her to me -
Go down Death!

Death didn’t say a word, out and on he rode
Past heaven’s pearly gates
Past suns
Past moons
Past stars
On Death rode, straight as he came.

As they were looking around her bed
She turned her eyes and looked away
She saw what they couldn’t see –
She saw old Death coming like a falling star

Death didn’t frighten Mama Maathai
He looked at her like a welcome friend
And she whispered to them: I am going home …
Smiled, then closed her eyes.

Death took her up like a baby
And she lay in his icy arms –
But she didn’t feel a chill.
Death began riding again,
Up beyond the morning star
Up beyond the evening star
Up towards God’s son
Into the glittering light of glory
And there he lay Wangari Maathai
On the loving breast of Jesus

Jesus wiped away her tears
From her face he smoothened any furrows of fear
Angels sang a little song, pleasing to her ear
As Jesus rocked her in his arms every time bringing her near
As he kept saying, take your rest my dear
Take your rest, take your rest.

Weep not, weep not!
Wangari Maathai is not dead,
She’s resting on the breast of Jesus!

©2011 Otiato Opali

Talking Eyes

Above the murmurs in this congested hole
Above the acrid smell of beer and cigarettes
Above the occasional grunts from the passed-out drunk,
Above all are the talking eyes.

Winking eyes telegraph messages across tables
A man’s smiling eyes declare intentions at one end
A woman’s submissive eyes seal the deal at the other
Five minutes later, they both walk out hand in hand.
Couples tables apart but eyes together.

One from a table across chats me with her eager eyes
‘Do we do business?’ the eyes invitingly ask
‘Am broke,’ mine reply
‘I Can’t even afford a cheap lodging room'
‘Go to hell!’ her eyes glare back
‘No money no business’

Her eyes then rove the bar for better eyes
Better money talking eyes.

©2011 Otiato Opali

Heartbeat.

He came home
Went to the safe
There where he locks his heart
But alas! It wasn’t there
It was gone, stolen!

He saw footprints – the thief’s
Followed them, one after the other
And found himself at the door of her heart.

She had stolen his heart
And kept it in hers.

He took her into his arms
Looked into her deep tender eyes
Keep it safe – he said,
Thief of my heart!

© 2011 Otiato Opali