Thursday, June 28, 2007

Stagnating waters

Bits of a bird-
On the sidewalk, remnants of the high sky and pieces from a sparrow
There is a boy with curled lashes empty stares behind the deep brown eyes
Thin skins had fallen in cracks of wisdom and the creases of tomorrow
Tears in the streams gun powder on the walls and hidden lazy sighs

Bits of a bird, twisted feathers,
Anemones draining on the concrete wet and oozing with silent sorrows
Thickened with ailment petals shriveled roots flailing stem standing shy
Venom dripping in the green veins growing stiff growing narrow
What makes a flower a flower- What makes a bird fly?

Bits of a bird, stuttering tunes,
There is a singing voice, shrieking voice fading in the shadows
There is a lady reenacting the nightmares of the past waiting to die,
Regret repeating, shame-
some of it new, some inherited and some borrowed
There is a singing voice, there is a prayer echoing in the corridors of time
There is a silenced voice, silenced dreams, silenced hopes,
A silenced sparrow …

Bits of a bird,
Bits of a soul,

What makes a woman a woman?
What makes a country a country?

What makes a bird fly?

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