When I die
Bury me under the soils,
Where I can whisper healing to the land,
For I've sinned;
I am guilty of having myself intact,
When what keeps me intact, suffers.
Lay me to the ground,
For I've lied on bitter grounds.
Engrave the word 'honesty’ on my skin,
I deserve such taunts.
The scars I leave on earth
I'll whisper poems for their healing,
In prostration, asking for forgiveness.
Crying tears, I promise, only to water
All the hopes that by err found ropes,
For a potential suicide,
But bury me only where the sun shines brighter,
Than the glittering parts my greed swallowed,
To live happily, only for me.
For not having been able to do,
What I should have.
Repentance, Guilt, Shame.
When I die, ask me
if being alive was all that it took to be dead?
There will be enough said.
Mind you, I won't fill in gaps,
Only silence can answer the hypocrisy.
Dead barren land of mysterious wonder.
You'll know when the sun nurtures,
All parts of me, planting a quite, quiet truth.
So, I don't want to say
Let the rivers run,
I want to say,
bury me beside a stagnant one.
So I know it won't wash away my repentance,
I want to create distance.
Once my heart mends,
I'll stitch you rivers and skies and land
Its fish, birds and sand.
Touch the trunk of me or hands,
Besides flowers and fruits, It bears some simple truth
Can you feel the aura?
Reminiscing and remaining Dead.
So, Send flowers to my grave
And I'll whisper them poems.
Keep me awake,
sinking in soils and drowning in oceans,
And remember to ask me,
If being alive was all that it took to be dead?