Ruins Poem by Sharmila Ray

Naked and immense
the ruins stare at me.
Here the evenings are
still born children and
the rain, if falls at all
is light as a grasshopper.
I have my notions about
other ruins,
but this one makes me
search myself.
Each cry I utter is lost
in the limitless space,
then it gathers speed and
hits the frozen walls
breaking into an echo.

Perhaps, the story I'm looking for
is buried beneath the mosaic
and in the whispering of the lizards.
Perhaps, it is there when the
first star shines and the
gods of night draw their curtains
over moon-drenched pillars.