The Hour Of Pity. Poem by Anaswara Divakaran

With the slow sunset,
The world, taken up by contagious silence,
Stares at a fragile soul.
The hour of pity smiles at a bikiny clad ghost.
The trembling eyes of an insomniac,
A married blue stocking.
Self pity carves out holes into her existence.
Her shadow is raped and body rotten.
The hour of pity buries her alive,
Release the soul,
And save the rotten stench.
Morning sunshine.
Curtain down.
Scene change.