A MOGUL'S EPITAPH By George W Kiwanuka

I stared into the cold chapel across the casket
Caught glimpse of my expressionless lifeless body
lying still in that huge varnished wooden prison
seemingly floating in a sea of hypocritical flowers and wreathes
all my power and millions irrelevant

From a distance, bewilderment served me  blows
at the few people who sincerely mourned me
I saw the futile efforts to feign grief
They tried to lie, in vain, but their grins gave them away
Deception presided as folks concocted good inexistent memories of me
I saw them all scheming for the vast property and legacy I had left
I scoffed at this, for the cut throat politics I had taught
them would be their death

I saw my family infiltrated, contaminated by greed
My wives, raised to be sisters, plotting each other’s demise
My sons laying it bare in air tight bloody war, their sisters picking sides
A preference to spill their own blood to divide the dirty wad of cash I had left
like spoils and booty from a conquest war

At the far end of the chapel
I caught sight of Mukwano, my scribe friend from the paper
His face was expressionless as he drew  claws
Laying his traps like a fisherman’s net with hopes for a
story about me
Prodding my partner’s and acquaintances for dirt, net-worth stories do not
sell he says
When all this plastic grief melts away, my life will be a lesson
Does loyalty to one die with them?
George W Kiwanuka
@Georgewkiwanuka