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veeraiyah subbulakshmi


Inheritance..


I am too tired, wearing all these shrouds,
To accommodate all these hearts,
Those long for a link within me, as their kin and kith,
When they wake up from the work,

After a long silence, that is too cold,
As if walk near the esplanade before dawn,
No one is around during the wee hours,
As if the whole world is against us in vengeance,

Standing there and witnessing the brewing of oceans,
Suddenly all these excited human ring my door bell,
The home is made up to suit their needs,
My feet mount up and float in the air,

The heavy stones seem to be the cotton pod,
The varieties of dishes on the plates,
The colorful stories repeated for the ears,
The longing of the heart for this moment to extend,

Zipping of the bags, spraying of the perfumes,
Wearing of shoes and the waving of the hands,
Again the house is quiet with a few hearts palpitate,
Open and close the curtain for the arrival of their loved ones,

The eloped illnesses arrive with their off springs,
These ‘old folks’ start to grumble and long for attention,
They are discarded of their shrouds for the safe keep,
Someone must inherit to be the beneficiary of their sorrows,

I have inherited one and lacked my sleep and peace,
I am tired of these attires, those have different name tags,
these attires don't belong to me, even after years of use and abuse,
simply fresh as newly sewed and waiting for the new owners.

Submitted: Sunday, July 14, 2013
Edited: Monday, July 15, 2013

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