A tender, heartbreaking night
etched on life’s uneven canvas.
An unblemished face, swept away
with the moon’s tide, her last whisper
Lighter than a feather’s breath,
she surrenders herself to her last lullaby
An undying flame as the silent womb
Of the mother bleeds open,
trying to pluck every single star
they had counted together.
In between the crushing moans of the night
the caustic smell of the hospital room,
sadly stumbling on shattered dreams,
Her heart, for once, did resuscitate…
Fairy tale murmurs, myriad hues,
Countless rainbows smoldering
In the embers, engulfing twirled childhood…
In the crematorium, the charred meat
Of her body, chipped edges of bones
and brain, lingering, one last thin scream
Looking wayward, hungry for kisses,
the habitual bliss of midday meals, and wildflowers.
All Rights Reserved. Lopa Banerjee. January 21, 2015