05:34 AM. Tuesday.
The morning bird released his wings like a sail
And crooned are deep mournful ballad. He will
Always be mourning in the morning. This is the
Daily ritual that sees a reason for living. When
The sparrow stands on his beach and sees a great
Rumbling ocean, a peacock, he knows that there
Is greater power within him- the one who can fly.
The flowers by the seaside, disguised by tall grasses
And bathed in the lingering cloak of fog, see what is
Not right and they see what is. And they see a small
Child rumbling towards the sparrow, eyeing the peacock.
Sparrow sense danger, but Peacock sees only a time to play.
06:00 AM. Tuesday.
I hear birds singing as always
And for the first time I wonder,
Asking myself what it could be
That makes the sparrow so sad-
Why does he fancy himself as a
Shakespearean hero, doomed for
Death at the hands of his great flaw
Because his gods grant him no mercy?
Why then does he find hope and in
The sake of hope know that what he
Holds is not hope? Why sing and mourn?
I wonder about the sparrow today.
10:37 PM. Tuesday.
On the midnight evening of 1935
When I walked alone, following
In the lost and guided footsteps
Of my ticking heart, as she told
Her tales, she recalled the disease
And the curses of years long passed
By and by visiting her prior lifetime.
There was, for once, no one by my
Side- ’twas just me and my heart
Flowing through the black faceless
Figures swarming by in throngs
Soundlessly and oh so loud, they
Moved about. Some in finery and some
Wearing nothing at all, the ghosts
Came to me, went by me, and through me
They passed with the ease of one too sure
Because They saw in me what I could not
See in them- weakness. All alone, I walked
On that fated midnight evening in 1935.
*All photos are my own.
Thank you for reading, as I know my posts have been unusually light these past few weeks. I’ll be back to my regular amount of new stories and poetry next week, but in the meantime, here’s something inspired by the beach.