We are taught to fear death

A shameless thief

Merciless devourer

Respecter of none

Age, race, gender, class, King, Queen, pauper

All are rounded up by the grim reaper without exception

Money, titles, favours, bribes, pleas

Whatever you have handy for appeasement is in vain

We are taught to respect the dead

The dead are gone

They now abide with the ancestors

Either in the tranquility of the heavens

Floating somewhere unknown in the universe

Or in the bowels of hell – all depending on what your beliefs are

They are no longer our equals

They are beyond our disdain

They no longer require our approval

They belong to another realm

For better or for worse, for good or for evil

Far from the scenes of their crimes Or from the good they might have done

They are simply no more

No tears of pain or regret can bring them back

No curses can force them to return

No stories long or short can help

No speeches, however brilliant, can make a difference

The dead might still see, hear, speak

Yet they are not here

So, we do not see, hear or speak to them

We can only talk, wail, complain, or remember their lives

With tales both real and manufactured

We are taught to listen to sermons for the dead

Some are brief and to the point

Some go on and on till both preacher and congregation are tired

Even when both are tired, the sermons still go on and on

Some are delivered in measured tones

Some are spoken with fire and brimstone

It does not really matter

Sermons for the dead are not for the dead

Sermons for the dead are for the living

Those who are gone need no speeches

The speeches are for those who linger on till it is their turn

The living who worry about hating, cursing, railing and desecrating the memory of the dead

The living who sing and dance of the worthy exploits of the dearly departed

Yet refuse to understand the meaning of the life they are allegedly mourning

The elderly King who reigned for many peaceful years

The austere Soldier who ruled with both gun and later a pen

The countless others who will depart today and tomorrow

Who, where, when or how is unknown

What is certain is the appearance of the debt collector

We are taught to fear death – yet some learn not to be afraid

We are taught to respect the dead – some think this should no longer be the case

We are taught to listen to sermons for the dead – the living do need to pay attention

We should indeed fear death It will make us more careful and thoughtful

We should respect the dead

Our hate and rage will not bring them back for punishment

Whatever we feel should be ploughed into being, doing and living better

Do not speak ill of the dead – this does not translate into singing unworthy praises

Do not speak ill of the dead – you can never quote silence

It simply means we should not worry ourselves with the dead

We should be concerned about being, doing and living better

We might never win a battle with death

We can however make every single day one to fight for

May the souls of the dearly departed rest in peace

May all those left behind find the peace they seek

Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi is a Gender Specialist, Leadership Coach, Policy Advocate and Writer. She is the Founder of Abovewhispers.com, an online community for women. She can be reached at BAF@abovewhispers.com