A Post Mortem

“What have you done for anyone
other than yourself, in your life?”,
asked by Death himself as I lay
in darkness, six feet underground,
with his eyes squared on mine, piercing
both my cold eyelids and the shroud.

Deprived of all the motor skills,
I could not speak but nor was I needed to;

my eyes narrated in details, fine,
of the times when I had looked away
from others in pain and distress
and when I had opted for the bliss of ignorance;

both my hands complained of times
when I did not reach out to those in need
and when to their agonies I had my ears sealed;
thus Death was told the tales of my grieving limbs.

Then he shook his head and turned around with a sigh
leaving me to rot alone, in eternity…


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