Poetry

Six Feet Under

And the attar of the moist soil,
Dissipates and flows in turmoil,
Unearthed roots and abandoned stones,
The undertaker digging in a sea of moans,
Tears and Sweat,
Trickling down faces wet,
Wails and screams,
Smashed up like broken dreams,
The autumn wind kicks up a storm,
As they scurry to keep my corpse warm,
And a distant relative cries in forlorn pain,
In a cloud of gravel drenched in rain,
The gatherers chant obscure prayers,
In a language of the ancient slayers,
Questions, Answers,
With mourners and bystanders,
Staring at me as they lower me,
This grave is my bed,
And the soil is my blanket,
And the demons whisper in my ear,
And I scream as they draw near,
No,
I cannot let them eradicate,
My legacy as I suffocate,
The dying beats of my broken heart,
Silently fade away as my world falls apart.
And the wailing then ceases,
And my body gets afflicted with diseases,
My soundless screams resonate,
In this six foot coffin that gyrates,
Like a lonely ship in a stormy sea,
It lashes angry waves upon me,
And I do nothing,
Paralyzed and frozen,
By the memories of a lifetime forgotten,
I drown in the sea of sand,
Wishing for just a solitary hand,
To save me from the voices that near,
Oh God,
Please make the dancing devil disappear…

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