A man can witness his funeral
not when on the pyre
but when in a sweet slumber,
mind focussed
on wild poetic imaginations.
No doubt, he can command
his cognitive faculties
to design the pyre
the way he likes it;
Script the epitaph
to be etched on the tomb
if he desires to have one.
No doubt, personal identities
may seem immaterial to many
but in real life
every attempt to erase own identity
creates a greater,
another non-erasable one
of larger dimensions!
Unfortunately no man has control
on what he should be,
how he be treated
or on defining his identities
after death.
Let the dying be satisfied
to bid farewell in peace
leaving no blue prints;
Let the future be not burdened
with your dirty linen;
Let freedom be
to the generations next and the next
to look for and trace our identities,
as and when they desire
to connect with their past,
the roots and the DNA.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem