If You Forget The Caged Bird- Poem by Deb Panda

If you forget the dreary morning sun-
In its childish yearn to welcome,
After the bright evening full moon disappeared
Into darkness of night, betraying his innocence!

In all his strings, caged is the bird,
If you forget, in cold of night, his voice-
So helpless, chocked, perplexed in outburst,
His decree, cruelty of fate, patience!

The caged bird sings, with voice unheard,
In the realms of sadism, tune for his master-
Blessed with fire of guilty, for all innocence,
Pain, curse to all selfless wishes, prayer!

If you forget, all reduced to prints;
On sands of ashes, mere possessions-
Empty with call of their walkover,
Mighty enemy- anger, hatred, insane!

If you forget- slowly & hide yours-
Day by day, it will recede-
With blazing name of its length-
Flashing its eternity, lasting pride!

Over years, the universe will move on-
Forgetting this tiny halt out of millions,
Slowly & steadily the wooden frame decays,
To golden memoir of yours-smiling shine!

If you forget-in succession of false pride,
The gleam of spring moon dies down,
Slowly- meeting the pitch darkness of mine-
Soul- unto dust, shedding away all branches frozen.

But out of the ravages- one thing will rise
With test of time, unmoved by burning fire-
Desire to see you happy, broadening smile;
Hardened- to diamond- all adversity, wear!

Oh Muse! Still the dusk doesn’t precipitate-
With dazzling lamps of his eye, waiting for rain
And ears harbour a thousand stream of your music;
If you still be angry-with noble mention!


The elixir of this birth is found-
If you still ask him, complain with creativity,
Whose servant is a mere follower-divinity
In all your pursuit; eclipsed pity.

Ah! The fire is rekindled, death dies down-
Out of the full moon, lasting for millennium-
If you still glaringly shot your eyes off-
But embrace with heart of universe, prime.

This summer of life is moist with yours-
Grace- this earth is full of lives,
Bustling, crowd chasing themselves to better-
But this battle is of my own, in beehives!

Gladly, I discover- no more a stranger-
To your strictures, sanctions hard,
If you still thought of cutting down lagged wings
Of the caged bird- singing in tune for master!

This journey, chasing to immortality-
If thought of uprooting all beautiful blooms,
Knowing-welcome of this arrival won’t halt
To eternity- this yearlong silence wins!

The dry-empty land is brimmed
If you still thought of striking out this-
Script carved with care, deep within
Out of odds, mortality, running ceases!

If you still- look to hide in cloud-
Apparent, the mighty sun melts it down-
For truth prevails in my veins, vessels-
Can’t disappear from this globe- stars, moon!

Oh Mighty Soul-a proud signature bears-
On this heavy frame, yield of all beauty-
In that soft corner, with no place for hatred-
Still dormant with the tone, without guilt!

Ah! This heavenly confluence-left earlier
The caged bird can never be hated-
For all good –in bondage of insular souls-
Metaphor of frailty, fugitiveness, hatred!



Oh Muse!
If you still think of this omission- unexplained
If still the crimson flowers bloom upon morning sun-
If still strictures, all transitory weapons keep striking,
To bow down this divine messenger-
If still thoughts of despair-weak-brief events appeal,
If still falsehood tweaks ulterior display-
If still faking displeasure booms
With thought of second, new restrictions to stifle-
And if still tenderness strikes with my words to smile-

Oh’ Fortunate one -heavenly blessed!

It will be and hence immortal-
With dropping of that cruel pen-
With warm solar crystal rays,
Comfort of nostalgic lunar adventure-
With new strictures, defying all fugitiveness,
With my divine spirit singing love, non-violence-
With my head held high, far from deception-
With my voice -one longing for truth;
With pleasant memories –anew,
deep with each recollection-
With all tenderness of the lotus bloom-
With all beauty of the fresh rose out of thorns-
“It will be immortal”- with each passing days,
With this longing for you reaching the Almighty-
In prayers, fervent strolls, upon riverbed, hillsides-
In devoted fasting, in line with priests-
To bid adieu to land of rebirth-
My lord! You know, it can never cease!
For I will never judge, count;
With all good, I’ll still love-
Worship, before this frame is reduced to ashes!