EPITAPH OF FAREWELL

Life in the eyes, the heart and the mind of a Poet.

EPITAPH OF FAREWELL

Here, I had come

All alone;

I had been seen

Touched

And heard

In a house of mine, battered and tattered

While toiling away unfettered

As a veteran hero cloaked in vestment of faith

For the sake of fate

Fraught with solemn efforts

And sacred obligations.

Mission accomplished, and the house deserted;

Unfit for nothing but for dust,
It crumbled without rescue into a mould:
Good only for casket preserved;
For hallowed sepulchre, gracefully disposed –
And nature received its own and nurtured to loam piles
Cherished by clovers, plantains and pines.

Here, its tomb –

A soppy flag of sordid dead reeled off this life –
Echoes the breath of wreaths
From crowds of foes, friend and folks
Who, from rats and rain,
Had laboured to wrest
The stiff mould of my crumbled house
For inertial rest
Six feet deep with earth, over its loft
To press it well under arrest,
Hard and soft –
Bidding me farewell
On my journey home.