Poetry the Noble Grave
Poetry offers a fine funeral to its beloved dead
with official tunes and mythic splendor
it buries them deep, salutes with music
dedicates wreaths, a cold grave slab
the endless procession behind the verse
all the sepulchral History above them.
The palms of angel seal their silence
until their Second Coming when
the dead will shake the gravestone
and move the moist body
to harvest our ripened life leaving
behind the borderless homeland.
Our dead hope to be resurrected and wrap
their arms around our necks
with their great strength and rigor.
Avengers, tyrant killers will choke us.
Manolis Aligizakis 