Dusts Poem by Benjamin Chiu Uy

Dusts

You will be carried without fear
Into my hut,
With no trace of illussions,
Distilled into the dusts,

I am the loose earth
These spades stands acrylic in lights of the sun,
Sworn to witness,
That nothing escapes,

I, the hands that attend,
Gives you this solemn funeral,
A sword of a drawn pasts,
More powerful and final,

I will not insist for memories,
The customs and the manners,
The traits or the curtail visions,

Whether the robber king procreated this lustfull heir,
Or a grieving mother this obedient son,

I am the arranger,
Keeping with these tedious process,
Come and be accepted into my body.