Poetry
A thousand evitable deaths
Death vyes in agony,
Screams afore the sun his soliloquy.
Unhazed the witnesses wait, turning white
to gold
now orange, now pink, now purple until all
go to bed.
Ants march up in suits and ties painted mourn and black
White canes have now turned to grey Pilgrim’s staffs.
They bend their heads and bow their hats,
Around death’s lips, their children sing, and feast, and dance.
With the cruel celestial pyre, the birds sing and hear you writhe,
The clouds don’t shed tears for their joy is now in spirits
high and blithe.
The ants have grown their tummies out like the diabetics
you paved a way for,
Oh, sweet death, the winds today call you sweeter honey and
cry that you are now long gone.
Death is inevitable. But she is still never late or early.
This poem was written to be an eulogy to the death that was close to the brim but not at the right time. Sometimes, you never really can invite death no matter how hard you try and death herself dies multiple deaths in front of your eyes. Hope the poem has reached its purpose.
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