An Unknown Corpse, Vol 2 Poem by Matloob Bokhari

An Unknown Corpse
Matloob Bokhari
Country: Pakistan
An unknown corpse found in a temple's shade,
On the forehead, above the arch, a tilak was laid.
A rosary hung around his neck,
A green turban on his head,
A Bible in his pocket,
The Gita in his arms,
A Quran in his hand,
By every faith, he was forlorn,
Priest looked down, mullah turned,
The monk passed by, and the Rabbi spurned.
For in his hands, no single creed,
The followers of all faiths stood back in disgust,
Disowned by all, owned by none,
The villagers came with hearts so kind,
They found him there, a soul unaligned.
They dug the earth with gentle care,
No questions of faith, no truth to declare.
'He was a man, ' a villager said,
'Of spirit bright, of heart well-read.
He walked the path of the rising sun,
And sang with the moon when day was done.'
He spoke no words of battles fought,
No flags of war, no hatred taught.
In every heart, a love he sought,
"No war, " he said, "no blood to spill,
No hate, no rage, no death in vain,
For all are brothers in joy and pain."
He preached not from a lofty throne,
But among the fields, beneath trees, alone.
No arguments, no turban, no sacred crown.
So under the earth, they laid him down,
No need for rituals, grand or high,
Just with simple love, they said goodbye.
The villagers buried him in his resting place,
With Gita's wisdom, Quran's grace, and Psalms of peace in silent embrace.