All Over

All Over
I watched death walk the streets
And it wore the face of pleasure;
It burned
Between our lips,
Between our legs,
And in our hands.
It was all over—
Hovered in the air,
And we hid our faces
But who can hide from death?

I saw death wear the skin of a man
And it devoured him from within;
He couldn't do much about it
But give many names,
Unlike those of men.
See, it could be slowed
But not controlled
And it consumed him,
And them,
Eventually, every one else
And before we knew it,
Death, had worn the face of a man
And it walked the streets
And we looked at death
Right in the face,
Until we couldn't
And hid our faces
But you know death,
Who can hide from it?

Death buried the lands—
Everything we touched
That was made of human hand
Brought death closer, to our doors.
And the world became a death mill,
When every morgue, reported a new case
In the morning, noon, and at night;
Not one, not two, but many.
The world bled, death was busy
And my heart cried for the times
What had become of this place
We called, once, home?
Where else could we hide?
Death had dominated, it was all over
For many, and eventually all,
It was all over.
©Benson Langat, 2020

Poetry Wednesday is live😍


Photo by Mauro Pilon on Unsplash

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