Jasmine Night Poem by Annapurna Sharma

JASMINE NIGHT
A Annapurna Sharma

I was named Jasmine
The sweet-scented blossom
Mesmerizing one and all
Even the stoic hearts
Thawed in my presence
I was devoted and religious
Just as the pious Meera
Touching His Lotus feet each morn
To seek His blessings
He adored me
But dwelled in a quandary
What boon could He afford?
His eyes held a story
Of the fragile, gorgeous one
That was granted
The innocent looks
The scintillating beauty
And ethereal fragrance
Alas!
Only to be crushed each night
Under the pillow of desires
Twisted and turned and tied
Strangled and smothered
With the twine of trap
Till the last breath sizzled out
Like the guiltless drops of water
Sprinkled on a roasting pan
Baked and browned
Curled in spasms of life-less-ness
Merged with the dust of the lone mother
No tears of joy of re-union
With thy mother Earth
No tears of demise or wreck of mortal remains
The Mother thus busy
For another labor
The birth of a baby girl
For a new jasmine night
Each day, each night…the story goes on…