The Lamenting Grave Poem by Afshan Fatima

Since the dawn I beheld
survivors coming to the graves
of their dear ones.
Each grave is washed and cleaned
and bedecked
with roses, marigold and lilies.
They made wreaths of fragrant flowers
and offered bouquets to the weary souls
in the evening, they lit candles to illumine the graves
The enchanting aroma of the incense sticks
and the flowers compel me
to envy the deceased.
I feel like as if I am surrounded by beautiful brides
and myself tattered and filthy.
I feel shame as nobody came to offer me a single flower.
My grave is still weeded and dusty
and ants crawl happily.