In the evening, the shadows of evergreen trees,
gently spill beneath the tombstones of the dead.
The heaving earth pays tribute to the dead
by pouring down her tears, the heavy rain.
The farmer, who found solace in a piece of rope,
rests here, his debts unpaid, tears unwiped.
The wealthy merchant, who died untimely,
rests here, his dreams unfulfilled.
Blessed are they, the buried dead,
for they are devoid of worries and fears.
They have not, the grey robes of their bodies-
to conceal their soul, in black and white.
Oh, unthinking mind, the graveyard of my thoughts,
did you weep quitely at the sight of these free human souls?


13 thoughts on “Graveyard

  1. This poem touched me so much….i remembered my grand parents and my aunts who are longer there with us………what powerful lines….especially that about the graveyard in mind!….Very good work netha….

  2. @ Bibi sir,Thanks for reading my posts. I didn't mean a lot when I wrote this. The words, I think, are not that powerful when I compare with your poems.@ Amal chettan,thank you. Anybody could have written a poem like this……Your works are interesting too….

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