Don't Grieve My Dear Poem by Aida Roque

No wailing on my grave dear,
my earthly body, for slithers feed,
my soul, sparkling in moonlit sphere.
Don't stand and grieve, I'm not even
there to hear.

My ashes, are floating dust and dance
with the breeze, while my spirit lives,
I see you mourn with your guilt.
Share to the wind, it has ears to hear,
why feeling sorry, when hate sears.

Don't leave flowers on my grave, when
I'm alive, that's my longing. I can't
breathe with your abusive power.
You're acting strange, crying on my
grave, looks derange.

©aroque
All rights reserved

Note: On brutality and abusive power.