Where is mercy but in death?
In the final words of a eulogy.
In the eyes of all men, may this man remain condemned
With the stares of blame and a burning conscience
Steadfastly hot.
May his soul rest in the bosom of the lord
For his name has been rinsed
In our teary eyes.
Cleansing tears are wept free
Down a brown pit at the end of the road
Palms everlastingly tainted with the remnants of souls, he waves
Dripping crimson worse than a butcher
Boldly red-handed.
Hands are crossed over an unmoving vessel of life
Washed clean with the salty rain from above
From our teary eyes.
Tales of life, in the wake of death
For a man dead, and truths long forgotten.
Behind the face of a human being, he harbors a fiend
A curse to the very womb that bore him
Blindingly black.
Lies silent, a man akin to the angels of the lord above
The pearl to the mother who bore him,
And to the eyes of society.
Words in life, so scathingly harsh
Smooth over and change their shape.
The thief of the night, he drifted from door to door
Ravenous for a life to quench,
Insatiably hungry.
A man with open hands now involuntarily closes them,
Ever giving, sharing in his past days of waking
With or without the eyes of society.
The curse he gave in life
Became his blessing in death.
To every power listening, we ardently beg for demise
For the end of his gift giving tirade,
Frighteningly fatal.
Why does the hasty hand of death come so fast?
Before one is done with their growth
Under the eye of society.
The beast in life,
Becomes the beauty in death.
One was his story,
And the other his eulogy.
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© 2020
Bushra Kokeb
ESTÁ A LER
Solstice: A Collection
Poesia○○○ The dying year weeps into the shoulder of tomorrow, The wails of a child are no match for its gloom. For the majesty of winter's love child, what am I to do but bow and bleed in the wake of the solstice? ●●●
