A State of Confused Happiness



In their red and blackthe mourners are moving their bodiesto the sound of happy dirges.The men and women in cloth gyrate their waiststo the rhythm and melodies made for the occasion.Onlookers applaud with smiling facesWhile the others respond in cheer and jeer.But a while ago they were all drenchedin tears of sorrowAs they said their final goodbyesto the departure of the visitor who had been with them for 70 years.  He had been the father who couldn’t be lived withoutand the mother who helped bring up the childrenHe will be missed for being the pillar of the society in which he cameThe daughters of the land shall wish she never had to gofor she was the Sarah to whom they were to aspireBut now that the hosts have said their final farewellIt’s time to make merry to dry the tears of loss,At least until memories of them fade completely.So for now, it’s time to stomp our feet to rhythms of confused happinessWhile the visitor lies silently in the vault; eternally.

This poem is about: 
My country


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