DEATH Poem: A mound, by Jusuf Khan

The land slashed by blades of steel fills me with sorrow;
vines and thistles cling to the asphalt, crushed beneath the rush of passing wheels.
Through the green, I glimpse black scars, the marks of past fires.

How fragile and soft I feel in the wind, the sun’s torment burning in the distant sky.

I do not fear death;
I honor it with each stone I pile carelessly, scraping my hands, living the pain that climbs up my arms.

Each tumble of stones, I rebuild.
Time undoes my creation, only making it truer.
This is my labor, this is truth.
I bless the stones with blood: death does not scare me.
I prepare for it with care.

Author: poetryfest

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