by Madhumita Ghosh
It is a cremation
one of its kind
I am not sad
have seen the inert remains
of a spirit long lost and dead
weeping in my heart
begging to be released
I stand calm
a secret joy fluttering its wings
eager to be released
so it can soar
The smoke rises
curling up, heavenwards
the essence of a being
gnashing and gnawing at my heart for long
now forever departed
frees me of a bondage
a dead lead I have borne all the while
I gather my flying hair with my hands
make a tight knot behind
my eyes now free from the looming lurking spectre
I look ahead
and walk briskly,
out of the crematorium,
free as smoke.
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Thank you Camel Saloon and Russell Streur.
ReplyDeleteIn my opinion, punctuations are a very important issues, which you should first consider.
ReplyDeleteThen, apply your own creative 'stylistics' in your own 'Ethnography of Communication'.
Good expression of thoughts, with well chosen words in a string!
MK Singh,
ReplyDeleteI would appreciate a comment on my poem sans grammatical errors please.
Thanks.