The day I die;

When I’m being carried,

To the gravesite,

You must never think,

That I’m missing the world.

For what is there to miss,

If not my mother,

And siblings,

My books,

And those few good people,

That care for me,

As I care for them?

The day I die,

Do not mourn,

Or shed any tears,

For I’m not being,

Taken into an abyss.

I’m being laid into the grave.

The entryway to paradise,

Where there’s no weeping,

Nor pains of outcry,

Nor starvation,

Nor hatred,

Nor rumors of war,

Nor pestilence,

Nor prejudice.

The day I die,

Do not think,

That I’m leaving.

No, I’m arriving,

Into my new home.

A home amongst the angels.

A home where I shall,

Stand in the glory of my maker.

The day I die,

Why must you cry,

As though I have gone?

Just gaze into the sky,

And our souls,

Shall unite as one.

This was written by our contributing writer, Emmanuel Gleekia.