Tuesday, September 23, 2008

the remains of a busted conscience

I felt wretched for what I had done and stood, staring at the stone,

pensive but repentant as a felon, trying in vain to repress a moan.

Stubs of dehydrated grass had buried the aged trail, at the end of which was the pit. I retraced the lost path with the aid of the sign post- the tree, still breathing. A few dry leaves huddled and held onto the twig on the edge, in obvious unwillingness to leave, indifferent to the breeze. The mirth of the ignorant ones in green seemed eternal. The same old sky stood gaping, bored by the weariness of being and like an unfocused mind. The graying daylight accepted the quarter of an insecure recluse in a fading white rag. Now my curiosity made way to nervousness as the edges of the ditch became visible through a maze of overgrowth. Time moved. I saw it moving backwards touching many spaces previously passed through .The sky looked alert and interested. I bent over and stared in with the faltering eye of an immoral. I saw the one boulder. Then I saw it. I saw the remains of the bone.

I swear, it was a feigned hunt,
an easy kill in front, a child’s mere stunt
just dropping a flat stone on the
entrapped chameleon.

I returned with the heart of a child, relieved, with the many children now getting back home after a game of football. The sky had vanished and the moon now watched over many other buried skeletons.

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"Hanging on a Hyphen" said...

Your posts always put the reader in a reflective mood and induce recollections. Such powerful imagery... Thanks for poets like you...

Sadia Hussain said...

Shashi it's amazing how you phrase your thoughts , I really enjoy reading your posts however I do admit reading them over to fully grasp them. All i can say it's beautifully written.