A Headcount

Rose incense and marigold flowers,
Sandalwood for masking the stench of burning flesh.
Babies gone, mothers too
Nine months and a whole lifetime
The womb has turned into ashes!
What on earth is all this supposed to mean?

Build houses, fight for ownership
Smeared in dust, the furniture and us!
Therapy and counselling for the mind
Bhagwadgeeta recitals for the soul
Moisturizing lotion, soft pillows and warm blankets,
For this tragic, tragic existence!

Paintings on the canvas
Sunsets over the horizon
And I can barely see the colors for what they really are!
Tattoos, identification marks, identities
Six feet below, indistinguishable, equal to dirt!
Being devoured by death
That girl who liked long hairs..
Which will grow longer after she has died.

I wanna die alone, in a place where my body can decompose in peace.
And the hideousness is not hidden away.
I will sit beside my decaying bones and watch them melt,
So that I do not occupy another body ever again.
No sandalwood pyre for me.
I reek of mortality.

Picture Credit: Photo by Gábor Molnár on Unsplash