Concept of Death

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I am in the August of my life

But, I struggle to sermon myself

enough courage to address death.

This daughter of frivolity

That is bound to be the main tenant

of my fabric as season go by.

Causing the anatomy of my body from soul

to separate and seek a state of permanence elsewhere.

In the pilgrimage of life highway and by way,

no learning of scholarly nature ranging from eschatology,

to theology and epistemology and self-anointed heretics

cannot explain the concept of death adequately

without resorting to the old negro spiritual

that transcend the tyranny of time and space,

when it is sang like so! I am gonna lay down my soul and be

down by the river side, down by the river side….

After many generations their concept of death

gave their decadence the resilience to face the ku klux klan

onslaught in the USA by reiterating the concept of death in this fashion,

And before l be a slave I’ll be buried in my grave and go home

to my home and be free. So heaven was their final resting place.

Many a million in the religious precinct of catholic faith

who believe the church to be one, apostolic, holy and universal

l find the concept of death better defined in a child like song

Of Miriam Makeba  that reads like so! A child asks “mummy what is heaven

like?” mother answers this way, “heaven my child is a beautiful place

its past the moon way beyond the sun.” this tells us only those

with childlike innocence can readily enter the heavenly kingdom.

While those with mortal sins go straight to hell to burn eternally

and those who committed venial sins will attorn for them in purgatory.

That is an unadulterated concept of death for many Christians as well.

The concept of death when looked upon from bhudist  perspective

death takes a form of trans migration of the spirit in a form of reincarnation

A person who epitomize this in a more excellent way is Rubindanath Tagore

He firmly maintains that death takes place when finally the decaying body

Has come to the very end of its tether, the soul views its breaking away quite

simply and without regret, in the expectation of its own entry into the infinite

It is not surprising that Tagore  finds great affinity with Samuel Hoffenstein’s poem that reads like so:

“The dead they sleep

The dead they sleep a long, long sleep,

The dead they rest, and their rest is deep,

The dead have peace, but the living weep.”

The concept of death from a Scientological standpoint

takes a different shape and form

According to Scientology each Tibetan is billions of years old,

passing from one human life to next through reincarnation.

There is no judgment of the soul involved,

and the process is automatic,

without any necessary intervention through ritual,

prayer or other means. As such,

Scientology funerals are relatively simple ceremonies

and are largely for the benefit of attendees rather than the deceased.

Millions in our rainbow nation their concept of death

revolves around journeying back and uniting with ancestors

an  afrocentric view strongly maintain as Barako Diop puts it,

The Dead Are Not Dead

Hearing things more than beings,

Listening to the voice of fire,

The voice of water,

Hearing in wind the weeping bushes,

sighs of our forefathers.

The dead are not gone,

They’re in the shadows.

The dead are not in earth,

They’re in the rustling tree,

The groaning wood,

water that runs,

water that sleeps,

They’re in the hut, in the crowd,

The dead are not dead.

The dead are never gone,

They’re in the breast of a woman,

They’re in the crying child,

in the flaming firebrand,

The dead are not in earth,

They’re in the dying fire,

The weeping grasses,

Whimpering rocks,

They’re in the forest, they’re in the house,

and the dead are not dead.

When I contemplate on the concept of death

I cannot help but speak to ancestors

through the eye in my dream world

it penetrates beneath the tombstones

in this blessed land,

a gift of eternity,

where they lay buried in an isolated place.

Civilization may dwindle to dust

Like meteorite hurriedly jutting

from somewhere to elsewhere

but the graveyard of my people will survive

the turbulent tides of circumstance

My incarnation with ancestors

Lifts me to higher consciousness

and bring me to orbit into the realm of ancestry

Thus permeates the abundance of life

Found in the falling

rain

in Kwazulu NatalIn the sweltering heat of Mpumalanga

In the undulating lands of the Kalahari,

to westerly winds that sweep across the Free State

to the meandering rivers that flow

from yonder hills of Maluti in Lesotho

to the turbulent Atlantic and Indian Ocean.