A legacy forgotten
Consider my grave your resting place too,
An empathetic soul who rests here.
Worry not poet, it haunts no more,
Covered with maggots, I've rotted here for a while.
These sockets are now emptied, I see nothing to judge.
With my brains swallowed,
I am no critique.
Only bones adorning dirt and bugs.
Justitia, you can call me.
Lend me your ears and I'll spit the truth.
They cherished me when lived,
Now left in a churchyard to rot and suffocate.
Did I not serve them well?
Recall the fights I fought, for our pride poet.
Yet, lie here, with mates, died in my lap.
Never craved for this grave,
But a life, unafraid.
Early, wasn't it?
My beard never turned grey, in fact.
Celebrate my story, in a poem in your next birth.
Copyright © Tapan Nath | Year Posted 2025
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