Monday, February 01, 2010

and it happened

there were no omens this time. no crows cackling at secret jokes, when the rays of the sun fell just so,

no furry black kittens out of control, squeaking at shadows and crossing the roads.

There was only a calm uncertainty that fell prey to some sonorous truths. they simply never stopped echoing despite the madness they lived in.

No temerity, no fervor to hold, only the last remaining wish for a life well lived and the gut it took out to live it.

There was no one in this world left to ask, no one who answered, yet it was written in stone, embossed in gold.

It was condoned as time, understood as a kind of nought, like drawing a smile that doesn't exist, like explaining water to a drought.

It was an insane topsy turvy jar with a hole, shook and wasted and remembered and bent, it was only possible because we went along, and didn't stop to show and tell

It was only a little life, gratis, unspent. It was only tomorrow that peeped over the fence, and came true


  1. "no crows cackling at secret jokes"

    -jhoot bole kauwa kaate, they do it to me too.

    I love this poem madhuri.