The author, Nandishi Shriram

The author, Nandishi Shriram
Colors myriad, yet a land unexplore

Saturday, September 29, 2012

A screeching bird

A screeching bird rests on my soft pillow
She sleeps a nightmare of unrest

Onto which we have tortured, clamped, held her wings
It is just a wallowing bird
Yet we treat it so

For where do the pain and hurt go
Of pasts long forgotten

Where can the loved ones go?
If the hells that are long lost
If not in a yawning chasm
Remember me once more o beloved

When I kiss you goodbye
I wave to you in a fading twilight
That gathers me in its rambunctious folds

Move into a Light that envelopes you
For only that Light can be seen that is of a further nature

If that bird does get freed, then allow it to be a free spirit
Into yonder it flies, into yonder
Into a restful sleep

It is a bird of metaphoric symbols
Of life, lost and found so

Forgive it its follies
For it is now at rest
In a twilight that only some can see

For we have yet to accomplish the morrow
Of many, many lives

Of many sins, of many deeds untold

Let there be no more screeching of the birds, of tempests forgotten
Of sorrows that now lie still

Goodbye O friend of many years
As you rest in a deep slumber

We will meet in the yonder of forgotten pasts
Of things left unsaid

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