The brown of used tea-leaves
Streaks her tousled hair
And he fits in the palm of her hands
Touched and tricked by sunlight
The crowd of heads
Bows down
To look up
And sun chases the glitter
Till it melts in the smoke
Here, prayers burn with every puff
Is it the thousand atoms of ash
That hold her stare
Or is it her painted lids
That dare not close
On the agony of a strength that never falters
Is never false
Is it the thousand prayers
That chain and drown her
Is it the thousand claims
Laid upon her
What is she, if not the mother?
Perhaps, she is the universe
Choking on dirty water
Streaks her tousled hair
And he fits in the palm of her hands
Touched and tricked by sunlight
The crowd of heads
Bows down
To look up
And sun chases the glitter
Till it melts in the smoke
Here, prayers burn with every puff
Is it the thousand atoms of ash
That hold her stare
Or is it her painted lids
That dare not close
On the agony of a strength that never falters
Is never false
Is it the thousand prayers
That chain and drown her
Is it the thousand claims
Laid upon her
What is she, if not the mother?
Perhaps, she is the universe
Choking on dirty water
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| Durga Series by Sharmistha Dutta |
wow, that was a powerful poem. Love the way you talked about durga choking on the universe's dity water.
ReplyDeleteWell written as always E :)
Wow is the only word that comes to me here :) This is really something
ReplyDeleteThis is amazing..It takes rereading to gather all it speaks. Beautiful
ReplyDeleteOh... that concluding line... I only wish we wouldn't treat her that way...
ReplyDelete