Mohenjo-Daro Poem by Kiran Devarajan

Still sometimes the desert winds halt here,
And lay tearfully the wreaths of silence.
Oft when sun smiles, the vanquished sands retreat
And offer glimpses of the lost grandeur.

Long before the rains learned treachery,
This bruised land did flaunt a green skin.
There, the noble clan spread its roots
And blossomed to become History's pride.

Nor castles nor monuments burdened this land.
Bonds of love were all that they built.
No foreign soil did their bare feet conquer.
Envy and greed were left to the Gods.

Then they vanished like the morning haze,
Leaving behind vague remnants of past glory.
Like the high noon mirage that lures lost souls,
Mohenjo-Daro still eludes us all! !