Thursday, May 17, 2012

The Crow


THE CROW

Perched atop a rusted grill
Embracing a vibrant park
Where people come to breathe and talk incessantly
Of Helios scorching the earth
And the parson’s wife
Who ran away with the blacksmith
Or the charity event
Where the governor wore a majestic purple robe
And disrobed in the shady bar
That served rum and smoky salmon
Revealing suppurating sores over body
Kissed by canines
Who now sit around a heap of bones
Thrown ever so lovingly at them
By the hands that tied their tails together
And locked jaws so that they do not bark
Yet they wince not in pain

Such is the pleasure of sucking the marrow
For in their veins
It’s not the crimson blood that flows
But the bile of sycophancy and lust
And in the shrinking bosoms
Ash ,just ash
For all the milk has dried

Perched atop the rusted grill
He waits
He watches

Dried skin of the salmon
Hangs out from his claws
He breaks the meditative trance
And bends his raven head to peck
At the shrivelled skin

As he bends the saturated night
Somewhat turns a shade of grey
The night he wears around his neck
Like the feathery cape  of Morrigan
The enigmatic diva announcing death
Or the beginning of a new phase
The banshee
Predicting it with shrieks
That rip the soul apart 

So black is the shadow of the shroud
So rich in texture
Hue and shade
So what if the dead was draped in white
Pristine,pure like a winter landscape

He thinks in silence and cocks his raven head
To mock at the whiteness of that white
‘Oh you may die a thousand lives
And live up to a million deaths
For I have blurred the line
That tells you Black from White
Go.
Sleep in tranquillity
In your crystal catacombs
You razed the forests to build these walls
The nectar in blossoms was sweet as long as you let it be’

As the bride puts kohl in eyes
And drapes her head in red
The crow
Gives a shriek
And flies away into eternity
Leaving behind the carcass that sticks on to the skeletal rails

Nothing remains
Only Truth
Thick and black as the Raven

Ghazal.17.5.12





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