An Epitaph in the Hearts of Men

Poets

A great day, for you

Awaits.

There will be time

That suffices for you

To recite all you wish.

Aspiring medics

You have me

In your bench

Where you dissect cadavers.

I see you

In white overalls

Injecting embalming fluid

That moves around

In my vessels–

This body

Finally resting

With its knowledge

And defilements

Except the poetry

Will land in your hands.

That day

I will no longer be

A man by the name Robert

But a specimen

With a tag–

Next to a lecturer

Holding a dissection kit

Waiting for aspiring medics

To storm the lecture hall.

I see some aspiring medics

Fainting helplessly

Screaming

At the top of their voices

Regretting

Why they chose medicine

And changing faculties.

I hope you won't tremble

Next to my cadaver

Because I was a harmless poet–

Feel safe near me

Kiss me

And hug me

If you can.

Away from the lab–

My future ice-cold grave.

And back to my home

To the society

That nurtured my seedling

Into a tree

Lying 

On a dissection bench–

Yours

Is a great program

Prepared by the poet himself

Decorated in poetry–

A good booklet

That deserves a space

In the libraries of men.

Street men,

You have a chance

To say something

Let none of these

With machete-like earth wires

Deny you the chance–

You saved me

With chains of joints

To calm my rowdy mind.

All I have known

Is that my best grave

Isn't six feet down

Where I sink

Into the darkness

Of oblivion

But in the hearts of men.

© Sea-Crab Poetry.

(Voyager of Words)

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