The Dove With Severed Wings Poem by Arja Sadhukhan

Wind, Oh, swift wind, which rushed through her dainty wings,
Elevated her as she swirled through the skiey mist in rings,
She chased her dreams, companions of a life, lively
Her world which was devoid of conspiracy and rivalry,
Shot down from the boughs of the cloudy sky,
With the arrow from the archer`s bow tainted with ire,
Little did she know her crime that evoked his evil desire,
To cause the shattering cry of pain as if evoked from a mourning lyre.
Wingless, and in severe throbbing pain, her ivory feathers draped in mud,
She falls, like the evicted angel from god`s starry court chambers, like a dud,
As she gasped for the last few iotas of breath,
She despised mankind for its meaningless wrath,
Her proud head swimming with the last vestiges of a curse,
That she placed upon mankind, in a thought-evoking verse.