Vultures.
I see them swooping down on carcasses left behind by men.
Merciless. Irreverent. Hungry.
Dogs fight for stray limbs of half-burnt humans.
Letting go a shrill cry of frenzied thirst
Not a sound.
Not a sound to be heard.
Hawks nibbling at lifeless eyes.
Empty sockets stay gaping blankly at the night.
Stars too afraid to shimmer.
The moon takes refuge somewhere safe
Clouds- a shade of sinister black.
Life weeps somewhere far.
Like a child too afraid to touch the dead
I wait behind the curtain of silence.
Not even a prayer
Not a prayer on my lips.
Not a hope on my mind.
A spectator.
Only a silent spectator.
Helpless.
Still.
Infirm.
Bones rattle out in the open again.
Sooty at being half burnt.
Bury them!
Bury them deep somewhere
I hate the smell of death.
No incense, please
No flowers.
Death is not glorious here.
Death is not a feast.
Children sing at a far off place
I can hear their song.
Or is it some hymn of death.
Are all the dead awake
To see the living fare
A flux of life snuffs out the cold
from the womb of the night
Like that unborn child
in silent despair
It grudges life to death
Somewhere.
Again, I hear whispers.
Soft, soothing like death.
They are here.
Or am I just hearing things.
Oh! I forgot to breathe for a while.
Sighs.
That rend the air
Ricochet twice from end to end
In mourning of a great demise.
No lip will ever arc in a smile.
No flutter flap inside my heart.
I died a painless death that time
When I kissed your lips.
When you drew my blood.
In an endless trickle
With greed in your eyes
I saw death in them.
Let the dust-storm lull.
Let it all begin for once.
Let the rot run riot in your veins too.
Let my ghost die in some peace today.
And float somewhere far away.
To a place where I may avenge this day.
Someplace- I may meet you half-way.
photo: gettyimages.com
