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July 22, 2024


By Saheli Mitra

And everytime I behold the thirsty eyes
of a parched blackbird hovering on the dried tap,
Me can see the inner me.
In merriment and mirth I laugh with all,
smile radiating like the scorching sun
of the summer heat,
that had wrenched all that was left of the flowing tap.
Shed tears with friends, sorrows shared,
for loved ones missed,
run around hospital alleys after those white coats,
holding hands of elders,
relief in their eyes.
Just like the oath taken at the altar.

But everytime I behold the raw brown
of a wounded tree, hacked slowly and felled
by an axe blade,
Me knows that's the inner me.
Bruises never shared,
Hurt lost in the stare that
had otherwise soothed a parched soul.
With none, who, ever tried to fathom
those untouched shores of
sighing waves or daring nightmares.
Tears that flow unknown, unseen
in the middle of some dark night,
When dancing devils
breach the trust of confidence
unleashing fear,
paying a visit on a moonless night,
Whispering deathly blows.

No hand to hold then, no voice to hear
none to look into my thirsty eyes
hovering on a Saharan landscape
of an empty heart.

Article © Saheli Mitra. All rights reserved.
Published on 2016-02-01
Image(s) are public domain.
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