Treasure Island

Pankajam Kottarath


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Lament


Sorrows deep rooted
lie damp
in bruised hearts
like my village soil
soaked for months in monsoon

Ghosts of hurts chasing rampant
neither melt in the sun
nor dissolve in the rains
as inorganic synthetics
Awfully abraded,
they fume and fret,
nudge day and night
The caricature
doesn't expose
scars caged within
and to unlock them
with an instant outburst
wait woefully
for a little kindred propinquity,
the litmus-test
for intensity of aches
If not any, stay unseen
for years and years.

Submitted: Monday, March 12, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, March 13, 2012

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