Smoking papers of a life now lived
38 years now rests in a crib
of stone in a cage, breathless inside
Nothing to feel, nothing disguised.
Nine long years pass, forgive me for not
keeping my promise, leaving you rot
alone in a cavern of cages and faces
burnt to ashes, dust to cases
Wooden and brass reflecting my name,
in gold etched writing on the stone bright and plain
A menagerie of voices, jubilant and clear
praising the life of people once near.
But I've left you there, forgotten you were
three red strands of hair fallen to earth.
Can you forgive me, I know you would have not,
closed the door in your heart and left me to rot.
Through winter and rain, hail and snow,
Out in the cold, forgotten, alone.
In nine whole years your crest is faded,
a glint in the light of the life I have traded
for trivial things, hardly a visit
Grass overgrown, I blinked and missed it,
The day your black shine emblazoned with gold
grew grey and dusty, forgotten and old.
Not even a flower, a single daisy
to remember your life by all those too lazy
who cried at your funeral and wept in the masses
No colour no life as nine years passes.
A man so loved surrounded by flowers
on other graves but not one on ours.
For you seem forgotten, can that be true
I feel you no more, nonexistence is you.
A warm pain is now all that you are
One day tears will reign and your name will travel far
In a sea of voices traveling on the wind, like snow, like rain
Like Gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true, Sarah. You expressed it wonderfully in your poem. Thanks for sharing