Abstractions Of A Temple
It seemed like a sin is watching,
from the camouflaged trenches.
As she hid her scars with vermillion
And draped her past in a raiment of promise
She fetched water
In a container kept aside for her God.
In a gesture of opening a small window,
removing black curtains,
she welcomed light, a ray or two and
darkness pulsed down,
along with them a little of her grief.
In a large city, of tall dreams and restless lanes
she looked like a conjuror
who can create divine silence
and carefully shelter her trick.
She cleaned the floor, harboured her cares
and sat and bowed
In front stood an idol
that she believed to be her lord.
He stood there, as if too many consonants merged too few vowels
He was unwilling to speak or he lacked a voice?
Or merely his words were twisted?
In her imagination a devotional song
In his silence a lifeless smile
And I stood by and watched
It seemed like inside the abstractions of a temple
A sin is watching
the worship of a devotee put on the cross
waiting resurrection and a rescue.
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