Cruel Hands Poem by Sharad Rajimwale

The bud slept in half daze
with its petals tightly closed, fold upon fold
while every night pure dew, descending
from the heaven, washed its tarnished surface.

The sacred beams of moon tried to awaken
its soul with the purity of Love's kiss
while invisibly moving, night breezes cuddled it
in their arms, cradling
its nascent life with burning concern.

when the time came for the bud to bloom into a flower
the sky sparkled with spotless blue
the winds grew warm
and the lilting lark flew into the depths of measureless beauty

Soon dust settled on its pretty petals
someone left finger smudges on them.

It cried in pain as a passing hand roughed it incautiously
the entire branch and some of its petals dropped in worm-infested mud

It regretted having come to life and bloomed.
It fretted and sobbed, drooping its withered soul
on the single leafless stalk
that gave it life-sap and reason to blossom.

by Sharad Rajimwale, Jodhpur, India