Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

mothers


When the golden eagle laid her eggs in pallid
interiors of the jail prison,
in a pathetic ambience of torn spider web and wild
rat,
the inmates wailing their woes at discordant tunes,
the obdurate periphery of snow white shells simply
refrained from hatching,
the fledglings suffocated to death in the rudimentary
ocean of yolk and
blood.


the gaudily striped magpie built her nest of raw twigs
and grass,
nestling precariously on tall precipice of the
mountain,
in which she delivered a festoon of small yellow eggs,
there suddenly came torrential rain pelting down,
the sky camouflaged with flashes of cold crimson red,
her precious pearls of palpable silver plummeted down
the valley,
diffusing into infinite splinters after colliding with
a chain of rock.


the long legged ostrich laid her king sized egg in
soggy fields of paddy,
nurturing them with loads of compassion and motherly
warmth,
slept in a tranquil bliss all throughout the monsoon
night,
she wept in inconsolable grief, as first rays of dawn
filtered past her eyes,
the babies were no longer hers, as they now lay safely
impregnated,
within the slimy intestines of the slithering reptile.


the above mentioned were rare cases of callous
mothers,
the premonitions i held for my mother were simply
astounding,
she hailed from a godly pedigree of mammalian mothers,
guarded me against evil all night and blistering day,
caressed me in her arms yielding to my faint cries,
suckled me with milk, reinforcing my tender bones,
left me to wander on the soil of parasitic earth,
after i acquired a mountain of maturity blended with
the spirit to live.

Submitted: Monday, August 18, 2014

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