PROSE POEM
DEATH, I GREET THEE
R. Suryanarayana Murty
Death I greet thee and await thee at my door step
Thy twisted mouth and sunken eyes strike no terror in me;
Thou striketh the young and old alike, thou the great leveller,
The young bride, still in the nuptial dress,
Shy and bashful, with cheeks rosy,
Falls a prey to thee, burnt alive, with oil poured all over,
The in-laws making a bonfire, scotching a life in its prime,
A crime abetted for no fault, but for not getting more dowry;
The young child, still in the womb, stilled at thy command,
Even before it can raise a silent cry
Its Primordial right to take shape in a safe haven
Commanding no respect even from the parents;
Thou could rouse the basest passions in the bakery of human brain
To wield the rod of power, to lord over others,
While millions are moulded as machines of destruction
The world kept in a trauma of perpetual fear
With wars fought using deadly weapons, forged in thy arsenal,
Every war sowing seeds for a fresh war
Every time more and more killer weapons being forged
How long is the world to suffer the agony of war?
Why hoodwink nations with occasional bouts of peace
While terror and ethnic violence are given free reign
Leaving more people dead than during a war.
Death! I greet thee and await thee at my door step
A life’s full cycle spent, living on borrowed time,
But pray don’t make me victim of thy diabolical powers
Thy visit should mark the culmination of a fruitful life,
Nursed on great thoughts, high principles, and noble endeavour
To make many flowers bloom entrusted to my care
The harvest rich, the garden a living paradise,
While new blossoms nursed in the garden take up the mantle
To carry the torch further to scale olympian heights,
While I depart, the race survives,
Sustained by the rich legacy bequeathed by noble spirits,
Hardened on the rock of duty and service
To face the many buffets of life
But always to uphold rights held sacrosanct for one and all.