In A Graveyard



 Curse of the Devil

in darkness of a graveyard

tombstones do not lie

ghosts will walk in the night

reading names of friends

and foes alike

in marbled italic inscriptions

how they will guffaw

at the memory

in eulogizing joy

pointing a witch’s wand

at some Mc Coy Donald guy

but cry in rivulet woes

for a child washed ashore

from the Mediterranean sea

and that Syrian mother refugee

that ached for freedom

now set free for eternity

and soldier-boy shot down

in rough terrains in Afghanistan

an old man dressed in khurta and dhoti

aged beyond a century

some ghosts will be silent

like the graves that be

but welcome us all

as the night awaits for you

and for me.







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