The Heaven Of The Deserted Corpse Poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan

He is dead
He lost his name
Now he is a corpse!
When alive on earth
He had name and identity
He argued, quarreled
And led and waged war
Against the empire!
All for his country men!
His corpse lay deserted
None was there to argue
To fight for his corpse's
Honorable burial or burning.
He had no land to rest
He had no pyre to burn
He had his son alone
Who never had any land
To rest or to dine
He dined what others left
After their sumptuous dinner
He wailed and wept
Beside the corpse of father
In a moment's thought
He walked to the street
Where black long stones
Were piled to mark land
He took one and moved
To the corpse of his father
He tied the long stone
To the corpse tight
And carried it to the river
where he took the corpse
And himself to the country-boat
Of one whom he knows not
He laid the corpse
On the boat-bed
And dumped the corpse
Into the heart of the river
With whirl-wind under-current
That carried the corpse
To the vast blue sea
The heaven of his father
Where his father's corpse
Rest in peace at the lap
Of the serene sea bed