To a poet no more
It is still the twilight but with a promise of a moonlit night;
beneath my feet, grass is damp in the evening mist;
air is scented with the smell of white temple flowers,
and wisps of smoke rising from a burning incense stick.
Here I am, standing in front of the grave yard
of whose words that are echoing in my mind;
I want to burn one candle in the name of you;
my eyes are swelling, and tears are rolling down.
How little we know.
The burning sensations you went through;
How far you wanted to cry out,
And how much you wanted freedom
And how much you thought of consolation.
And here I stay helpless,
repeating your words day in and day out,
those words that healed every mind,
generation after generation,
And just saying,
Date : 04th November 2020
Contest name: Thanksgiving Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina MacIntosh
Copyright © Rasitha Ranasinghe | Year Posted 2020
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