Fragility of Life

His head hung low. Very low.
His 6ft frame slurs, speech slouched.
His eyes black as death, spirit blinded.
Body full of hurt, heart lacked strength.
A loss of life, own found but not tonight.
Lost his life-giver, gained the creator.

Words incoherent. Actions incoherent.
Chin up, catching teardrops.
Beauty couldn't hide the pain, suffering.
Smile, like the horizon, was all he could muster.
He hears but cries of the oceans.
Sees waves of gloom written all over their faces.
His head hung full of sorrow, his neck couldn't bear.

The eldest son, losing his mother.
Yet, found his father.
Lost a life doing good.
Separated at birth, now united as brothers.
Oh, the fragility of life.

I attended 2 wakes in 2 days. And saw the fragility of life. Today was the cremation of my aunty, of whom I am not familiar. I've seen her somewhere, during reunions or in old photographs. But I can't tell which. Her two sons share a telling story.
This poem depicts what I saw, most captivating was the eldest son. The eldest looked nothing like her. I've never seen a grown man so life-less. Even at best, lifeless would be an understatement. When people mentioned his name during testimonies, he barely lifted his head and stared back unto the floor. He had to use both his arms to lift a drink packet. It wasn't just a single life lost, his was seemingly out too. I witness another wake on Saturday, where I didn't see a grown man cry, but I saw worse. His eyes red from crying.

The grief of losing a loved one even sometimes too much a man can bear.