Poems by
Rohan Subba

I die…

a poem by Rohan Subba

I’m laid on a cold hard ground,
But, I can’t feel the coldness!
I’m garlanded by a colourful flowers,
But, I can’t smell its perfumed scent!

I see myself, covered in a white shroud,
A crowd and a holy man in his chants…
I see my family, friends and relatives
To whom I exchange no words or action.

Mother is wailing at the corner in tears
Father is in misery and in hidden tears!
They have been deglorified and lost…
The world is getting bleak, dark and grey.

The regular tune of violin is no more heard
But, the only sound of chants and the bugles.
I see my ‘blue phone’ kept on the table, ring
Nobody to receive and keeps ringing by and by…

Finally, I’m lowered to a pit covered in grasses,
Exposing my lean, five feet body of flesh and bones
The heaps of stones, pebbles and mud kept nearby,
They shower it all over my body and lastly, the face.

Now, I see no moonlight or the early sunshine…
As, my only bodily senses are all lost and buried.
It isn’t those daily dreams, that I get up again…
But, a permanent resting place of peace… death!