The Feast Poem by DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK

I see every day those
Crowds that carry feast in their eyes
Such merriment and such transport
Are but spotted while haunting a gold spot
And a passerby I am
Drawn in keenness nearer to them
Only to find a strange silence
Reigning them and the place
Though occasionally there is a cry
Piercing the sky
And it is all business as usual
Nearer to him comes the goat gentle
And lifts up its head
And closely he sees its face and then his hand
Strikes hard breaking the silence into a hell
As one by one starts to wheedle
Into getting its bones, flesh and entrails
Until the crown disappears
Where I see the tumult of life and death
Subsided in traces of tears stained with
Blood that say how little we know our animal passion
While boasting of wisdom's glorification