We don’t fear death,
We are afraid of being forgotten.
A body meets death three times.
First, when the last sliver of the breath
leaves its existence.
Second, when you are buried
scattered among the elements
and third when your name
is called out the last time.
We stay alive in the
deep crevices of the memory
we harshly deny the
the certitude of the death.
needed to be reminded
Again and again.
Fighting for our survival
for that name to be uttered
To be called out once more
before it gets absorbed
in the folds of the oblivion
We write reams of scriptures
carve our existence on the
broken scales of the caves
to last our existence through eons
Like a rope going through the rim
of that blind well
Leaving its broken marks.
Such is our boisterous claim to immortality
Survival is the only instinct we know
hunger is the only truth
we conform to.
We are beautiful,
We all are immortal
till our names are called for the last time
We don’t fear the death
We are afraid of being forgotten.