Evening At The Bridge Poem by Saroj Padhi

Is glory gone with the with the crimson sun
engulfed by swathes of dark clouds on a rush
from the distant horizon
sweeping away the last dot of rose
from the chest of the evening sky
that with simmering desire of a few stars
to be watched and loved
in the white heat of a fire, seems to burn
when mating calls given out by female birds
from coves in ridges on the middle of a dry bank
get drowned by the cacophony of honks and horn
when headlights streaming along the ring road
overlook the groaning narrow streaks
getting drier and drier in a monsoon-time river;
the full moon paled by city smokes sadly looks on
to end up shedding a few unseen drops
to the chest of the river, to our utter unconcern
and as night moves on
she is further blackened by smokes from pyres
of innocents
killed by flames from blind superstition;
trees of the city seem to droop further
under burden of clouds of distress
rising from eaves of poor hutments
on the river-side- ragged, leaking and outworn;
as we retreat for the night
to a sleep beside our secret graves
to be racked by nightmares
till the rise of a clear, bright Sun!