I remember the well in my garden,
Cradled by the ladies’ incessant babble,
While infants engaged in playful dabble.
Flowers bloomed by giggling streams,
Teasing boys and girls’ screams.
Angry waves broke like a wailing child on the shore,
Shells we picked till our feet went sore.
As dawn kissed the horizon,
The sand shimmered like the gold in the receding sun.
Purple turned the wide blue yonder,
“How far are the stars”, I used to wonder …
A familiar blare breaks my reverie,
Only to remind me that we would soon go down the pages of history.
My unassuming life is now in a quandary,
One of strife and disharmony.
The well still stands sturdy beyond my broken house,
No water - only blood does it douse.
Teasing boys are now armed men it seems,
Painful shrieks screen playful screams.
I still wander by the shore with fear,
For you never know when it is your turn here.
The waves thankfully still commensurate,
Just that the “shells” that I pick mis – mate.
Yet again dawn kisses the horizon,
While I wonder when death would oblige me.
Twinkling stars are overshadowed by
Puissant fireworks in the sky.
I have now learnt that the stars are not very near,
And it feels like I have lost somebody dear.
For they formed the only cloak of solace I could masquerade in,
I now stand fleeced despite having done no sin.
While I ponder about the ghastly animation of time,
I wait for my garden to be cleared off mines.
Screaming unheard, I cry in pain,
Although I know my efforts would go in vain –
Is there anybody who could wake me up and tell me it is all a dream?
