Pyre Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA
Pyre
The pyre keeps burning
with rage and reek
on the sultry heath
far from the hustle.
It burns with hunger
the stinking corpses
one after another
wrapped up in white.
No kin appears there
with tears for last rites.
Some stray dogs roaming
in utter madness and ecstasy,
waiting to witness a miracle
that may happen for them.
Wednesday, May 5, 2021
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5/9/2024 6:28:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
