July 16, 2018

 

Agony

 
 
 

The proud hill bleeds in the bald plain
its elongated face, once smooth, disfigured
by the overworking excavators

the scarlet-brown scars showing for miles
each scar deeper than the previous
criss-crossing like the lines of an ancient

the putrid wounds drying under the summer-sun
like the injury of a traumatised veteran back from the front

a lone banyan tree and a hut forming a receded crown
of a diminished rock, once dominating the scene
its innards now feeding the distant high-rises of a
parasitic new town

the tall and solid hill
enfeebled, broken and shattered,
is gasping and slowly dying --
un-seen.






Article © Sunil Sharma. All rights reserved.
Published on 2016-05-23
Image(s) are public domain.


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By Sunil Sharma:

In the same series:

Agony

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Impermanence
Old Man
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