Sunflowers on My Grave

Last night, in my disturbed slumber, I dreamed of a voice asking me,
‘What is the one thing you crave?’
‘What would your final desire be?’, asked the booming voice, and I had but one reply -
I ask for sunflowers on my grave.

Few words capture the crux of my life as succinctly as ‘piggy-bank’ does - 

a piggy-bank, where memories, I save

Memories of people, of conversations, of relationships - in memory of my memories,

let a sunflower grow on my grave.

Celebrating that spectacular sunset I never got to witness, or as a souvenir

for that long-overdue solo trek to the mountaintop cave;

In remembrance of all those unfulfilled wishes on my bucket list,

place a single sunflower on my grave.

I shall always be proud of myself for blazing my own trail, albeit one step at a time

I’ve walked a path I strived hard to pave

And if that rekindles one soul’s fire to chart its own course, may the light

shine on as a sunflower on my grave.

Having said that, I have regrets too - I allowed myself to sometimes doubt if people were right 

in dictating my choices, or the way I must behave.

Proclaiming loud and clear, that this quest for validation leads one nowhere, 

I want a sunflower to stand on my grave.

My fortress might have been a mere sandcastle, all it took to tear it down 

was one giant, sweeping wave

But in memory of my little kingdom, where I was reigning Queen,

plant a sunflower on my grave.

Queens of sandcastles have but shells in their treasuries, but the gifts of my

kindness and love, I gladly gave

And I humbly ask of every heart that I’ve touched in some little way -

sprinkle some sunflower seeds on my grave.

I know I’ve shattered hearts too, my words and deeds have broken relationships

so much that they’re now almost impossible to save

To all those of you whom I’ve wounded : if you - and I hope you do - forgive me someday,

please leave a sunflower on my grave.

I’ve weathered my share of howling gales, and eventually, when my last leaf falls,

I know that I shall have been graceful and brave

And for every day that I showed up - exhausted, crestfallen, trembling, wounded,

may a sunflower bloom on my grave.

When I cross the threshold of life, my loves, I wish you bid me adieu

with a filled heart, if not a smile and a wave

And when the mists of grief surround you, I promise you comfort

in the garden of sunflowers on my grave.

The Tranquill Poet 🤍