You live among the graves

You, the ashen alyssum
homing in on dark bushes
breeding maggots
feeding on flesh.
You the fetid parasite
carrion, the rotten stink
a toxin laced tongue
devouring pith.
You, the stench of
malignant blossoms
a venomous creeper, you
had to attract snakes.
You live among the graves
the poison pollinator,
a corpse floret
of foul odour.
You the venin
cloaked in smirk
a shrew, spiked with malice
must be crushed,
must die.

Silence 2

Silence please.
The House is in order.
Under the dome
Green carpets
soaked in blood
echo barbaric silence.
Complicits walk hand in hand
Goons are masters
for they rule the living and the dead.
Governance a slave.
The deity, an accomplice
rides waves of black coats
and saffron fallen leaves.
Paradise mourns humanity.
The Valley laments.
Caressing the corpse
wailing willows lament…
‘Barbarians?
Do you do this
to your daughters?’

 

12 April 2018
on the abduction, rape by multiple people, and murder of an
8 year old girl inside a devsthanam (temple) in Kathua, Jammu, India.

Letter from Papa

I dreamt of Papa
shuffling letters in his hands
walking to the letterbox
stopping and reading the addresses
checking the seal, uncurling edges
once again before posting,
as if parting from friends.
Checking the lock,
and the time plate on red box,
he turned one last time  –
looked at me and said,
‘one of these will reach you, soon’.
The letter comes as letters
One character
One word in
One dream
each night.