Eulogy For The Forgotten

By Keerthana K

If I had a choice, I’d ask every new person I meet,

“Would you come to my funeral?”

Some would say yes, I reckon.

Some no—

The mere acquaintances finding the question rather peculiar.

But where similarities are concerned, I know

None of them would attend the service.

It is rather tough to watch someone being laid down,

So as to have the dirt cover them,

When every bit of them has already been buried

Six feet under in their memory—

Erased, forgotten, unnamed.

We do not hold burials for people we do not know.

We do not hold burials for the ones who have nobody.

We do not have eulogies for people

About whom we remember nothing.

I suppose, in a way, that is a blessing in disguise for me.

My eulogy would be rather short—

My name being the only word uttered.

There are no achievements in my lifespan,

Only frowned upon, messy failures to talk about.

And no one will mention those,

Because humans forget their deceased,

But oddly say, “Never speak ill about the dead.”

So when my coffin is being put down, isolated,

I hope nature can grow flowers from the mud that hosts me—

So the lack of love for this undeserving corpse

Can be hidden.

By Keerthana K