Thursday, June 23, 2011


My feet keep taking me
To where we used to meet
Though I know it cannot be
Everyone looks like you
Answering my searching eyes
With outraged stares
And a few pitying smiles
I feel like the pilgrim
In the serpentine queue
Unable to find his glasses
When he gets near the deity
And is thrown out
Before his darshan;
I never thought death
Could come so early
With such speechless eyes
And heart-breaking smiles
And take away my cerulean skies;
I cannot pray at this shrine
Where we have stood with tears
I'll rather sit on the steps
Of the fabled tank
Its water green with moss
Watching with pity fervent feet
Rushing to the goddess
With more unheeded prayers.

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