At A Newborn's Funeral Poem by Arvind Srivastava

Butterflies were yet to communicate with flowers

The balloons were yet to be filled with air

The teddy bears in the toy houses had yet to reach out

The rattles were yet to make a sound

The chocolates were yet to be tested

The joy of the leaves sprouting in the buds

The new words were yet to be crafted for the dictionary

The daggers were yet to be snatched from the hands of the butchers

And the locks of the prison were yet to be opened

The devil was yet to be caged

So many curiosities and mysteries were yet to be revealed

The infinite mysteries of space were yet to be solved

In these very scenes

We had to join

The funeral procession of a newborn

There was no noise of truth and motion

The tradition of burying the newborn gently in the soil

Had been established for

In that deserted place I had seen

A cruel commander

Crying,