did i not submit fully
with no reservations
no hesitation
or even
thinkingly
and yet
you wanted more
always
without ever
thinking of all those
who have surrendered to me
and their rights over me
why should their submissions be less precious than mine
Tilted frames
Sedimented truth
patches of pink flowers
Fabric of future
Moon was tired
Feathers of a bird
Yes, it is my problem,
I accepted
When you insisted
That it didn’t matter
The feathers
Of a bird
Fallen on your way
Didnot deter you
For a moment
To ask,
Is the bird injured?
Today when the cage is open
Bird has been asked to fly
It doesn’t want to
Fear of control
Has gone
But do you wish
To be controlled
Tell me
O nasty
Bird
the roots of wilting pastures……
a stream
flowing through the mountains,
overcame many hurdles on its way.
but it kept on flowing
till it reached the valley.
not sure,
whether to flow again,
or become a lake,
it spread itself thinly
amidst various ravines and cracks.
the peaks don’t miss it any more,
valleys thank it
for nourishing
the roots of wilting pastures……
tamed by the banks, river
struggles took a toll
of the resolve of a traveller
wanting to walk on many paths
not sure
which were the purpose
and which were distractions
but then the meandering river
can become a lake
if not tamed by the banks
or flood
the huts of those
who have no where to go
forgiving is easy
forgiving is easy,
and imperative when
there is a will to reflect
else
we may reinforce self referential
audacity
one can still forgive
all the beastly barbs
and not hold on to them
lest they pollute the river
on the bank of which you mediate