Flowers and Silences
The dim darkness-the diffused light-dimness of one merging into the other-imparting more length to the long trees that are standing like stretched out
shadows wearing stars in their hair- silence is imparting more depth to the darkness
in this advaita where darkness is merged into silence, my mind wakes up,
now not only sound but even a ray of light is a violent disturbance to the profoundness
of peace- in such moments deep truths unveil themselves-
now I realise it is not sound but in silence melody lives-
I am born out of flowers and silences- while passing my hand brushed against a flower,
I asked 'are you bruised? ‘‘Me or you' smiling, the flower questioned back- the heart
of my pen broke and split blood; - I do not know which paper can bear this pen-
In the gigantic silences of forests, which touch the blue skies, the carpenter bird pecks
at the trunks of great trees which echo, far reaching sounds-
what can he do among the tiny crotons?
I ate days like fruits-now I eat drops of tears like grapes-frightened by the sun
took refuge under shades-sitting on the pavement eating dreams from eyes like ice cream
with spoons- measuring my life with dark evenings- I distributed my wealth
once with metres, now I scatter with handfuls my future
letting it fly in all directions-
I washed my heart in tears and dried it over poetry- walked past
wearing people on my body like shawls-
in the assemblies of flames; in countries abroad I raised my gypsy voice
and sang mixing earth and sky-
this country is the graveyard of my genius- however fast I walk
the distance remains the same. This land is thirsty for my blood,
it is snoring in the little shades of pigmy trees-
I picked my pen and dipped it in the sun
to write a summer song for my nation-
-Seshendra Sharma
(From ‘The Burning Sun ‘Collection of poems)
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