Arabic Proverb
"He murders and then walks in the funeral procession."
You ask me why the tears
Why the sad face
And inside I laugh
At your gull in asking
When you know full well
You are a murderer
And yet
You walk in the funeral profession of my heart
Wailing and mourning
Dressed in black
Crying tears made of glass
Manufactured perfection
Each “drop”
shattering as it hits the ground
A sound
Only I hear
You eulogize me
Speaking of my wonderful traits
What made me the beautiful woman
Everyone loved and wanted to be with
Everyone but you
Everyone but YOU saw my real beauty
The crimson glory of my robe
The scent of my being
YOU saw the thorn
Yet today
You call me a rose
You ask me why I weep
You ask me why I mourn
You murdered my heart
Yet you walk in the funeral procession
The last laugh is on you
For after 3 days
I will rise again
I need to rest in this tomb
Before I see the light of day
Before I awake to newness of life
But alas...
ALAS...
You will not be there
To witness
My resurrection day.
Eileen Manassian
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
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