Every dawn I travel back -forth from hell
blazing flames of pain resting in the darkest
gorges of sufferings torments me as naked
infernos burn my parched skins
Revealing to me translucent blisters hiding
beneath my skins but as the coolness of
dusk swaddles me in its scarlet twilights
I swallow my miseries like a bitter pill
imagining that these woes will relieve my
pains , heal the erect blisters as venom
cures venom, suffering begets endurance.
While many are busy taking dips in the
tears of self-gloat, I stitched myself a golden
robe, embellished with the thin silver wires
of saline tears…
Embroidered mighty rivers with scarlet
drops of blood, ruby rivers flowing through
ancient courses of hems and stitches,
The lush strings of pangs of suffering to weave
tight-hymned maids eager to take plunge in
cerulean waters to spare themselves
the sorrows of broken-hearts.
The luminous copper threads of fine miseries
to lace together the old cupid boys’ sans
dimples flanking on either side a grayish figure
of plight adorned on a turquoise pom-pom vessel
on the frothy waves of cherry rivers,
A Third Coming may be.
While some are busy taking dips in tears
of self-gloating I wear my splendid robe
sewed out of woes and despair specially
at twilight with a marked pride of a society
lady carrying a smile finished with
barbed wires.
Brownish hue of
Suffering settles
On top like fumes
From chimney
Silently embraces
Heart, moist
Vapors tickling
From eyes, a
Loyal companion
Of poets of my
Kinds, between
Pen and paper
Lies a gentle heartache
A tingling pain
Mysterious melancholia
Sitting with me on
The dusty couch
Sipping wine from the same
cup, air filled
With soft notes of melody
Sung by suffering.
Tanya Shukla
