Cold Dirt Poem by Ibn Ali

When I'm perfectly packaged and perfumed
When you pour that cold dirt
On my still colder skin
When I release that last sigh, as if tired of life
When the women cry, the villains smile and my acquaintances reminisce
I hope I'm missed
Turn off the lights and close the door
Leave me to my belief
Momento mori
Death is my reprieve
On a date unknown to me
There's still yet life to live
I hope to see my Lord
Although I've sinned
I'd love to see His face
I'd love to stand accused and have Him forgive
An eternity based on before
It was hard to be sincere
The worldly life endeared
But I endured as best I could
Allah knows I'm weak
My only hope
That You love me more than my mother does
And my mother loves too much
But she doesn't know me well
How dark my heart could be
So many things I hid, and buried well
But He sees
Hey you, standing there astray
You're standing on your grave
Look down
Tomorrow your duvet, your rug today