In biting cold and sweeping winds,
She sits silent where time stands still
As you pass by indifferent, like seasons past
Her each wrinkle in knots of a thousand questions

A feeble form in curved back
Burdened and bent under a colossal weight
Living a soul wringing to pour,
Drenched dry eyes scorched by rains

Fighting her tempest, roaring within
And battling your silence, the lull outside
In burdened skies a white lays out
Flakes heaving upon a scorched red earth

As the ashen spreads and dwellings close
Then the cold embraces and chimneys smoke
She holds on to her place in a buried hope
Stoned eyes sunk in a skeletal face,
Caved shoulders marked by the boots of that night
Her bony feeble hands seeking a prayer
And her faint gaze keeps asking you ‘have you seen my son’?

~S~
25th Jan, 2012

Advertisements