The Night I Died

I well remember that night 
The night I died
The sky was pouring 
On the reflections of the dancing street lights I stomped

 I was cold and scared 
 I could sense the ghosts chasing me on the demolished walls
 I dashed but then a blast and I was thrown to the ground 
Now I was counting the stars, rain washing off my blood

The little star winked at me 
If I wasn’t dead I could go and tell my roommate that even stars were hitting on me
 
Death held me tight, I could feel his stare
I wish death was a woman so I could hide my face in her hair 
But death looked more like “Akbar” the guy who sold vegetables in the market 
With the same lustful eyes 
And hands marked with callosity after he took too many lives 

He wrapped his fingers around my neck 
And laid his wet lips on my throbbing head
His breath smelled like cigarette and some staled food
I felt nauseous and threw up all the soul I contained 

I couldn’t be surer that I was dead; looking at his satisfied face
The very same look men give after an ******; His hands were rejecting me now

So I lifted the hems of my spirit and flew up
Counting the infinite stars in the sky 
As my feet were lingering from the roof top of the blue mosque
I am dead!

Rahy 
March 23-2016
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace