Reshma Ramesh - Candle In The Sun

She limped at the gates,
' Who goes there? '
Said I, voice clear and loud
'Mother earth' muttered
The hag in brown,
Beyond death and rotten
Was her flesh,
'Such excruciation!
Who did this to you? '
whimpered I,
'My children, ' said she.

With meaningful glances
I hurried her around,
pulled her veil down,
contused nouns,
She squats on the floor,
Drifts off to gnided dreams,
Beyond repair is the womb
that sleeps in the
pregnant souffle.

Her broken head on my lap,
Drops of water on her lips,
I poured from my sterilized
hand, 'Please' she prays,
'Ask my children not to burn me,
for they know not they
burn themselves,
they know not, they can
never be the candle in the sun.'

Between the creases I saw
an angel, who was once beautiful,
As she eased on my lap,
My soul mourned for the
innocence lost, beauty branded.
Her children, you and me,
Can you hear her plea?

Reshma Ramesh

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