Friday, 29 April 2011


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