Buried Alive Part I Poem by Akhtar Jawad

My feet were unmoved,
My hands were static,
I could not speak,
Could not open my eyelids,
Still I was thinking,
Still I was hearing,
I was lying on my bed,
Was I dead?

My wife was unconscious,
My daughter was crying,
Grand Children were so.
I was trying to speak,
I was trying to get up,
Could not do any thing,
So helpless I was,
So restless I was.

My friends and relatives,
Had arrived at my house,
My sister was spreading,
Some water on the face,
Of my unconscious wife,
And sister of my wife,
Was giving some food,
To the hungry grand children.

My son was away,
Younger daughter was away,
And my son-in-law,
With my brother-in-law,
Were informing my son,
And my daughter abroad,
On their cell phones,
That I have been expired.

I was frightened so much,
And my mental pain,
Was a source of strain,
I wanted to tell,
I am alive, perhaps,
But all my efforts,
To speak to them,
Failed again and again.

I started thinking,
Of my sins shameful,
And started regretting,
Why wasted my life,
In futile exercises,
Why did not something,
Something really good,
To please my God,

Meanwhile I heard,
My son and my daughter,
Are expected next day,
By the mid noon flight,
And they decided my body,
To be kept in freezing,
In a social worker trust,
Till the time of burial.

I tried to speak,
My dear loved ones,
Please keep me here,
Turn on air conditioner,
Take some food,
And rest at night,
But I could not speak,
I was dead.

I was moved to a place,
Where no living man,
Can pass a few minutes,
And there I noticed,
I can smell as well,
As the bad smell,
Of the dead bodies,
Annoyed and frightened.
,
Then I thought,
Many hours have passed,
I did not pray,
And remember my God.
Having no alternate,
And a victim of fate,
I remembered Him,
Bu all in vain,

So this is the death,
The last experience,
My life was prey of my death,
And the hunter finally hunted,
And as I could think,
I have a life different in nature,
But is my soul still in my body?
I am dead or alive?

Oh my God! If I was dead,
The soul should have gone,
Out of the body,
None of my senses,
Should have worked,
But I could smell,
And I could hear
And I could think,

Was I alive?
Was I dead?
Was it coma?
I knew nothing,
But it appeared,
To me in distress,
I am going,
To be buried alive.

I heard some voices,
And recognized all of them,
My son and others,
Have come to pick,
My dead body at home,
And I was carried,
Once again to my house,
To my nears and dears.

I was given a bath,
And in two pieces of white cloth,
Those were not stitched,
I was brought for the last,
And final sight,
Many voices I recognized,
And I heard so many,
Reciting holy verses.

Finally I was lifted,
And my body was carried,
To the near by mosque,
After routine prayers,
All gathered in the lawn of the mosque,
And offered prayers for resting my soul,
In piece, but the peace was not for me,
They were going to bury a man alive.

Then I was carried to the final place,
Where at, my grave was open for me,
I was put in the grave,
By my son and in-laws,
And stones were put to cover the grave,
And the clay on it was put by all,
And the poor old man,
Was buried alive.