Prose

If I Die


If I die tonight, don’t cry, bury me.
But take my Iron bell to a market altar.
Let it ring verses of my poetry
That they hate
With this, I shall smile in my “Opulent Home of Nature”.

I, Umar the poet, if they spill my blood tonight
Collect it for me in a ceramic pot for more verses from the grave.
These ones shall torment them more.
They shall be living corpses before they join me.
Blessed be my grave, silent gods.

Read my verse if they are humane
Destroy, burn-whatever you wish
If they are against humanity as a whole
But don’t tell me, for the dead- have no ears
But let it be your torch as you swim in this dark sea of life!

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