Three Poems

tryst with the divine


surrounded by slumbering shadows of winter
i alone hear
the rhythm of your being
i alone hear
the music of your foot steps

cutting across closed doors
you enter my frozen chamber
and the glow of your being
the warmth of your touch
weave colourful patterns
in the wearying night


dum spiro, spero
(while i breathe, i hope)


a dagger of lightning
slashes the dark skies

accompanied by your roar
splinters of light
fall to the earth
in a continuum
connecting heaven
to the earth below

god, help me weave
the splinters
into wings of light
to soar
to the heaven above




once again the earth
stealthily gnawing at her own margins
entombs gods and humans alike
all human activity frozen
in its innocent sleep

the buried gods
in the earth below
bear witness to
petrified children
still at study ...
parents panting
under the dead weight
of their young ...
a just fed infant alive
with a mouthful of milk
in the arms of a dead mother ...
a life trapped for thirteen days
with its breath still intact ...

the debris of several limbs
under the rubble
of a once make believe world
and piles of decaying bodies
impatiently await
a mass burial as
bulldozers lay down
beds amid the rubble
for the dead

overwhelmed and stunned
the sorrow of the world
erases boundaries
to find lost links
once again.

Indira Babbellapati