There Is A Black Pal Poem by Radhamani Sarma

There is a Black pal, my
Visitor regular, cool and calm.
In my balcony, its abode of
Grain or rain, it visits my
Perambulations profoundly strain,
If Black were to be a curse,
Woe to the Creator’s paradigm of
Release and hearse.
If colour were to be
A conscious matter of grouse,
Hollering would annoyingly increase.

Deliverance is too far,
Even now, for it is intricate,
it is manmade
aggrandisement.