Monday, January 27, 2014

Among the ruins

I saw it, and saw it long and hard,
the dilapidated remains of my house,
a house, once grand and lush,
which a bomb just blew out.

It took just some unfortunate moments to do it,
and it was no more.
Old age, too had crept in its veins,
and time had taken its toll.

I stood there with moist eyes,
hearing nothing.
Perhaps the echoes that rang in the halls,
were buried there among the ruins.

Those voices of laughter,
the incessant crying for a lost toy,
the sweet tune of a mother's lullaby,
the roars of wild joy.
They are still there among the walls.
The walls, on which I had painted, sketched and scrawled.

New coats of paint had hidden them,
and the walls had taken them within,
along with the voices that rang among the walls,
where all these years, though silent that they have been.

But they were there all the same.
I wish that I could find them too,
along with the echoes,
and unearth every corners that I could claim,
in which I played and walked on two little legs,
laughing at their shadows.

These legs have grown up,
and I stood on them now to see,
a house which a bomb just blew up,
setting the echoes in the walls flying very free.

© 2014 Abhijit Pandit