THE MIDNIGHT MASS

Inclined spines, distress faces,

Midnight procession,

The shadows are passing,

Towards the basilica end,

Carrying candles in their hands,

This mute protest often,

Agitated my heart, soul, brain,

A curiosity didn’t allow me

To sleep peacefully, I followed

Them, reached nearer

And found all are familiar faces

Abandoned by society,

Forgotten by flow of time,

What they want, where is their

Destination, a swarm of questions

A cloud of grief goes through,

Somber looks says why god

Has made us lesser

Destiny’s children, we wanted

To bloom just like you

Just like them, why didn’t we

Get our little share,

Our dreams were tender, innocent,

We didn’t claim for beatification,

A privilege to survive parallel

To others, the closed door

Of cathedral opens itself,

A strange illumination emerged

Bleeding man steps down

Says look me I’m hurt, wounded but

I didn’t forget to smile

He looks towards the mystical sky

Raising hands towards unknown,

Unidentified, face, with

Wet eyes he prays, the tear drops

Fall down, I looked, in the

Eastern sky gradually clouds are

Moving as a beautiful flowers

Blooming, scattering the colors,

Submissive mass returns

With new dreams in their eyes

From far away I looked

The church slowly becoming

The temple, synagogue, sometimes

It looks like the pagoda,

The flute s sound is floating on

Wind over the barren valleys

-- SHANTANU SANYAL