Like a bird

Perching on her bed

In the corner of a closet

She is ready to fly

On the angel’s call high

Her face not grim, not drooping

No! nothing of eery looking

Of death and departure

But calm and still

Like a sea, silent

And alluringly loud

Desperate to dissolve

In the glowing Cosmos

Dark and yet bright!

Studded with giant lamps

The scintillating after life

The ever unseen dimension!

She is another kind of a person

Contempt and happy with little

Mundane things tickle

Not her heart

Sprouting ephemeral wishes

For, she beholds the world

In her own garden, her self

The grooves on her forehead

Narrate stories of old

Jagged and even

Gossips, finds she

An act, most distasteful

For she is in reality immersed

Far more engaging she appears in

In her autumn

She yearns for winter

Her grey tresses waiting to be snowed

She is waiting for her Death, calmly

She is a mother

Who lost her tiny tot

When that ill finger

Clicked the trigger

And boom! It pierced the soft little heart!

Hauling life out of her

A lifeless carapace she turned

Executed by a nation’s saviour

For saving the nation!

This tyranny she accepted too

With patient eyes brimming

With gateways, flooding

She is the bird trampled

Many a times

Under the feet of not

Many strangers but her mates

Relishing on her pain.

Throttled, she endures all

Hiding pain with a smile all

Vibrant on ruddy countenances.

But abaft her sweet mask

She dugs untold tales

Of patience and perseverance

She is no other

But my grandaunt

Peace be on her!

Remitted be her sufferings nicely

Long live you!

Long live your patience!

Long live your endurance!


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