Sunday, February 03, 2008

Inhale, exhale.... exhale


Cool, serene morn; leaves swaying to the breeze
A lone bird clears its throat.
The mist lingers just a bit
Delaying the arrival of the sun.

Far away from a world of noise
Into one of silence and service.

People walk past; some in, some out
Some ill, most healthy.
Like a breathing, sleeping organism,
This place is quiet, yet alive.

Just then a couple rushes in.
Their child - the fruit of their union
Is in the jaws of death.

Barely four years old, small little boy
He was with them in the fields.
Innocent play, preoccupied parents.
They didn't see him fall,
Face down. And drown.
In a pool of stagnant water.

Just a foot deep.

Life, if you are so precious,
Then why so delicate?
If nothing is let to chance,
Then is this meant to be?

Sobs break out. Slowly growing into wails.
Another breath extinguished.
A lifeless, limp body to hug,
Two hearts ripped open.

Nobody hears the bird sing.


Blogger pratap kaul said...

"If nothing is let to chance,
Then is this meant to be?"
beautiful poem ...looking forward to reading more from you :)

11:36 PM  

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