by Johnny Kung ’23
My Father, Death, left me behind,
When I was still a child,
But Mother Life has raised me with
Love so tender and mild.
But years have passed, and she’s grown old,
Her kindness fades with time,
Her back is bent, her face freckled,
Oh, poor mother of mine!
Her former sweetness was replaced
By a bitter grudge,
I’ve borne this burden for too long,
So, I started my trudge.
I wanted to be free from pain,
Of Life, and from Mother,
And on my journey, I came to
Find my long-gone father.
Aged, he was, but a strong man still,
And he worked in his field
Where he was weeding with his scythe,
To my father, I yield.
And so, I stayed with Father for
The dead are truly free,
I embraced Death to celebrate,
Good riddance, finally!