Crematorium Poem by Golaka Acharya

I am in a crematorium
I see the herb and thorn around;
my rotten body and mutilated limb
half eaten by vultures and foxes
the empty pot, the used up broom
my stinking dress and the slippers;
all around.

From somewhere often audible
the cry of kith and keen; how
easily I tore the relationship
ended writing diary and forgot
your faces.I am fallen in the centre.

Should I leave the place now?

I look around to see my love
I see the saplings, the lovely trees
their flowers of bewitching scent
and hue.The tear in the eyes of my
wife and son.The smell of my land
the sound of my temple bell
the smile of near and dear ones.
I cry to be here; to be here always,
for all time to come; to bleed
on the thorns of life
smell the flowers of love.23-12-2010


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758025 Email-golaka.acharya@gmail.com
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