Into His Pyre…

Narendra Pai — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 17:28:06 +0000

The first day, rendezvous with him,
Every sound seemed absurd.
He stopped me from making the sin,
Blocked me from saying any word.
He wanted me to know the fact…
That his wife was safest in his arm,
While he lived and after fate ended his act,
While it’s cold and after it’s warm.

Seeds of hurt sown deep down,
That impairs my soul…
And they stand there, they frown,
The beast lets loose a whimsy growl!
There he stands with a knife.
And I knew, seeing in his eyes,
Nothing could harm his wife.
He went away, overlooking my sighs…

He went away overlooking my sighs,
With broken glass shards on my wrist,
On the floor, where fate played dice.
I fell on floor smashing my bloody fist…
With growls of beasts growing loud,
And the singers hired to cry.
The better beasts hid in the crowd,
I hadn’t any life that I could defy…

I hadn’t any life that I could defy,
The heat around sucked in my tears.
Every old whisper began to vie.
The cries around lingered my fears,
The first day, rendezvous with him…
He promised to fulfill my every desire,
My desire was to live, not die with him.
But they pushed me into his fire…
But they pushed me into his pyre…

The MAG » Poetry

Into His Pyre…

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