In the Grave

My boat is a grave,
Seas of blood form in my ghostlike mind,
Forces of deadly power inhabit the spirit of my life
As I crawl inwardly into a stupor of beauty,
As my moving is sitting, and movement is a comedy
Of movement, inside I laugh, never outrageously,
Just my brain is calm,
In proud spirits, offering me chiming of bells
And musical instruments from the minstrels
We use to adore, fading away now,
Just now, just now; when finally
I die.
Like a boat that belongs to the drowning.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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