Waiting for a Good Morrow
Parthajit Borah *
Innumerable flecks of blood wistfully
draws a red triangle over the bosom.
Sleepy Bowers touch the land at dawn.
The sound of enchanting flute
flows in the air.
The birds of western clouds beseized
in the ethos for evening prayer.
Illuminating lamp from the hut
sobs in little sharp and trebles.
A wounded soldier chased the hawk
with half buried legs.
The screaming of the warriors
enhanced the sound of volley
for painting the sky with raw gore.
The moonless night covers a white robe
on the corpses at dead of night.
The slighted dusk prayed for a
few drops of green dew to
flow the land with peace
for cultivation of vigorous hopes
in the sorrowful land.
* Poem written by Parthajit Borah for The Sangai Express
This poem was webcasted on September 08 2017.
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