A Widow At Dusk Poem by Saroj Padhi

A WIDOW AT DUSK

Widowed every dusk by her incapacitated, weak, impotent husband-
the Earth that helplessly wallows in stupid, infertile, hopeless dark
for an escape from turmoils of all sorts over his wounded body,
the Sky wipes the sacred vermilion of the setting Sun off her forehead
in protest, but to sob soon like an orphan in the lap of a promising Moon
as stars sit at her bedside spinning stories of solace in the soft wind
applying balm of beams to assuage her supple, tortured body and mind;
oft' she cries out with thunders of pain bursting out of her throat
with fire of lightning in her fiery unsatiated eyes, as helplessly she lies
with marks of savage bruises on her nipples, navel and ravished thighs;

Earth has his imbecile argument stretching out from shores to peaks:
curfews, killings, bomb-blasts, rapes, robbery and a reign of terror
battle of faiths, hate-campaigns, intolerance, incertitude and horror
that eat into his vitals spewing fire, filth, futility and ashes of fear
emasculating him in blood streams of poisoned rivers, seas and glaciers
enervating his zeal, impounding his energy before he can spring to hug
his Love that delicately waits with blushes on her cheeks at a corner;

her waits for hours long turn futile as the Earth is rendered so sterile
days after days she waits till bitter grows her life and bitter her love
till one fine evening when she finds him sulking in arms of an engulfing sea
as dark enveloped everything, her Love openly flirting with foaming tides!
Since then she prefers to live alone away from the smokes of his false love
and asks the Sun every eve to disarray the vermilion before leaving
so that her Lover would come with a new mark of vermilion every morning.

COPY RIGHT: @ SAROJ K. PADHI / JUNE 2017