poetic vagaries

grandma-அம்மம்மா

(I had received some pretty upsetting news about my maternal gandmother's health during the summer)





அம்மம்மா

Ripe sunrays swell the chestnut, in spiny green, cocooned.
Soon the succulent flesh will be grilled and consumed.
Birth, growth, death, eternally cyclical. Inescapable.
Her hands so soft, yet lined by experience now invisible,
Caress my cheek, with tender love and awe.

A child of her autumn, stubborn as her mirror, yet
Cherished beyond doubt, fed on dreamy tales of might.
Concentric circles, slowly indisputably spread far.
Yet revolve evermore like unruly planets around the star.
The depth of her eyes tells stories of long ago.

Leaves have long gone, bark resplends in the cold light.
Unruly snowy softness of her hair, tied in a bun, tight.
She sits revisiting autumn days of glorious colours,
When child and woman filled airy castles full of treasures.
Her voice sings lullabies, aged and mellow.

Ice cold rays highlight imperfections of withered Nature.
None can escape the perfect circle of life forever.
Each second, a bullet piercing her bounteous heart, bleeds.
Slowly numb dreams to come. She shan’t hold my seedlings.
Her fragrance surrounds me like a halo.

Slowly time takes all that Nature generously gives.
Ticking slowly but unstoppably, it tells of non-stories.
Flowing ceremonious robes with pomp and circumstance,
Her withering happy eyes shall not glance or praise.
Her embraces calm my reckless nature.

In winter, Nature wishes back, all that she gives.
Ashes to ashes, the soil shall absorb the bonfire leaves.
She won’t see my crimson regalia, nor tease shyness away.
Her witty repartees will no more, adversity in my path, slay.
I do not wish to see her parting coiffure.

posted by sloth108 @ 1:04 PM