Elegy For The Dead Poem by Avinash Nair

I pass through places,
I pass through people,
New faces,
Strange countenance,
All a dying pretence,
Some alone,
Some prone,
Some depend,
Some descend
Into my soul
Not in bits and pieces
But in whole,
Strange events,
Stranger people,
A Meaning that prevents,
The estranged essence,
A dying thought,
Clumsily caught,
Before it fell
And shattered,
Voices that spread
Like a cancer cell,
If only the weak
Could dare to speak
To break the spell
Then they would tell
Not in bits and pieces
But in whole
The story of the dead,
The tedious rigmarole.