Fog Poem by Saroj Padhi

Your breath smells of burnt mango buds
caught in the heat of a fiery love
with an indulgent sun
under the cover of an impenetrable fog
that melts in an early Spring morn
to drip from tips of unsteady leaves
that wait to be shed from wounded trees,
but still are holding on

and desiring to be licked long
by the rabid sun,
to escape from an insipid Winter freeze
that entrapped all
with little promise of early return;

but alas! Spring's frenzy can't last long
when birds stop their sweet song
to break into pitiable shrieks
as bullets float in out of the blue
digging holes into our mud walls
and terror from the red corridor
throws us out of the door;

and startled
we crouch into caves dark, dingy, unknown
where death threatens us with a stark oblivion!

When will we be free from fear
to woo the lusty Spring?
When will the fog restore us to its blind hug
in its sweet, old, familiar ring?