The wrap up

 

 

The tempest is over amidst spoils

Like fading gallops after plunder

The rampage is over after bloodshed

Such is the aftermath of the storm

The branches that shook like brides

Captive in their trembling minds

Losing their foliage fearing the worse

Now the trunks lie uprooted on ground

Like a capsized vessel with inverted life

What was full of buds and twigs

It shouldered often nests of life

Now is termed dead wood

Fit to fuel many a pyre

Lit to liberate unidentified corpses

But entangled in his own identity crisis

Some life is so tender underground

That supports the massive trees

It fails to die easily after the tempest

It decays and dehydrates slowly

Drowns itself in shallow soil

For no one lifts dying roots in life.

 

Delhi

2169

22.59 hrs

11.7.24