Friday, January 27, 2012

Keep the night going

They keep the night going.
The earth turning.
They, the scarecrows of the dark:
The long dead and forgotten.

The bustle that I hear
is beyond the reach
of the enveloping night's screech.
An invisible plow
keeps the furrows intact.
Wells condense the winter
down their throats.
A potter's wheel turns itself.
And the blacksmith's fire
is alight with care.
Chatter fills the streets.
Leaves take shape and fall
Become tomorrow's waste.
A distant traveler's eyes rest
at the sight of civilization.
A general bonhomie
of a parallel universe persists.

Meanwhile, the deathbeds
left behind at home transform
into working desks of fertility.

1 comment:

Biswarup Mukherjee said...

Extremely well written.

"Wells condense the winter
down their throats."

Lovely metaphor. This one, reminds me of Tagore:

"Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come."