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, “Thank you”. Date : 04th November 2020 Contest name: Thanksgiving Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Regina MacIntosh