Durga

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

Durga Series by Sharmistha Dutta

Take a look at the complete Durga series by Sharmistha Dutta HERE.