Sitabz Garg | + Follow Poet |
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On My Death

To the gravedigger, dear sir
let the ivy grow and the rain fall in the stele
As a flower fall from Eden, I hear the angels sing
While I slightly twist and turn in the God’s acre, so deep.
Erstwhile a soldier of war, till kingdom come, I shall remain as such.
I am not a hero, just a son who never returned 
in foreign lands and in an alien time I sleep through days and nights
as the war ends and victory levitates I do not celebrate
Just mourn over broken promises.
As in the early morning there on the sepulcher 
A blackbird sits and cries
Down to the pavements and to the catacombs
it caws and caws in despair to wake the dead.
 And as the roads that lay out of the graveyard
And the thousand miles journey
That follows, shall never be trodden.
As the church bells ring
And the crowd that follows shall pray for me,
How as of upon a very fair time and of now I ask my mother
To take me to church and lay me down at divinity
A girl and her lover meets in the burial ground
And they speak of their love in secret
Hush now , the dead are listening
Of your tryst in the graveyard 
Of every night and the sweet parting kiss,
We wonder, we covet and remember our own despair
When we hear your love song in that strange tongue.
I weep in the depths for my own tattered love
Where my lover still weeps by the hillside
Or has she moved on.
the first drop of rain, or the first piece of snow,
The first beam of light of the first cover of darkness
Strike my bed first
And while the sun keeps the moss away
I wait and wait, not for my widow
Nor for some candles in a dark stormy night
I do not wish for flowers, for I cannot smell them
To days past and nights darkened by
All I wish and could wish lay by a thousand miles 
In distance, homeward bound.
Since I cannot follow, and never make haste
I shall lay here quietly, without a sound
And dream of the seas and oceans and of clouds passing by. 
4/4/15

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