Grieve not, my graveyard
Were I to stretch my feet on floor,
The walls would lead me to the door.
If I walk tall, a bit unbent,
If not the roof my head would dent.
If only should I sleep all crawled—
As per the training I had ere
In my mother’s womb when I dwelled,
That training all the fruits now bear.
Yet, grieve not O my burial ground,
All crawled I’ll lie in a small grave,
Precious space of graveyard to save,
Descends when that death-seeking hound.
If need be, at the time when dead,
I can sleep yogi-like seated.
__________________________________
Sonnet |03.10.2023| grave, house
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