Neeraj Kumar | + Follow Poet |
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In Front of the Church Gate

I had a dream last night
fogged by an uneven frost of the morning
guessing if the sun rose.

It dawned on me
it was night still
with forehead engulfed by the fallen hair.

I figured her out
against wealthy gold streaks of sky
while flowers kept merrying in the garden.
Sitting cross-legged in the pavement
She awaited a long cherished arrival;
the pavement turning
          BLACK , white	
          Black , WHITE
          Wh…

Time danced on the cross roads
  with a series of its resonant restrained movements.
Its hand drew out for me
and I trying to grab them
  found the sun shining
  illuminating everything
  except shadow of my own construction.
The very next moment
  ate up its hands
  and shadow intermingled with the silent darkness.

Vehicles tossed up the roads
flooding the pavement with light
Yet,
  Alterations marked the vivacity of vagueness
  to fathom the unfathomable
and fragmented mirth wetted me from within.
Perhaps,
    WHITE would make my shadow flee, I thought.

Sitting there,
she snatched stars from the moonless sky
and buried in the boisterous soil.
I climed up the hill 
  and fell from the precipice
  and she followed
like unshed tears of void eyes.

I kept stringing up my instrument
  as I had only songs to offer
  that of my own disintegration
And she stood
in front of the church-gate
in deathly austerity.

The deity rose in protest,
Melodies evolved from the ocean-cradle
  -filling the air with its uncommon pitch
  and my songs kept straying in the corner
  looking for fortification.

I dreamt then-
     trees stretching themselves upright
     trying to peep into heaven:
     Deep fragrance of incences rising
     where I stood
     draped in WHITE
     praying with vague distrust.
  ……..
        ‘AMEN’
                ……..

I rose from the bed rubbing my eyes
  and at the breakfast table
  I sat dismayed 
  as I remembered all.

Copyright © Neeraj Kumar | Year Posted 2006

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