T H E B L U E Poem by Sachidananda Panda

Often I sit in the corridors of emptiness
with my eyes fixed, on the fleeting moments
On the anvil of life's complex calculus
Untangling the knots of subdued emotions
Things that once was so dear to me,
Perhaps are far left, at some distant shrine
Along the frozen faces and littered skeletons

The lone Banyan Tree still stands aloft
Few boughs broken though, to harbour
Poults or pups in their slumbered infancy
From the predators to have an easy prey
In absence of the older members; they too
Are left to the mercy of wanton eyes

Like a well wound device and of ivy winds
Am' often dragged to sit under that tree,
Counting the beads of both grim and glee
Stretching my eyes to reach the far off horizon
To count the fallen feathers of flown flocks
Yet! All my efforts to regain the past
Assiduously appear grim and look murkier

While negotiating through the narrow lanes
Of Memory, and its desolate terrains
To trace fragments at some distant latitude
A threnodic silence threatens, in the aisles bleak
A rancid look, and a tone of melancholy resonates
To make me feel disheartened by its cruel criticism

In these hours of introspection, I notice!
A cold countenance and a candid voice
Often comes calling, well within and around
To remind me, of the unspoken tenets of time
That, it never stops, never waits, never ends too
To revisit the past, or to rectify the path
Ends up, simply looking at the Blue...


©sachi,21st Jun-2020
ALL RIGHTS reserved