Monday, September 26, 2016

Mary Annie A. V. writes

Long time back, 
remember us gazing 
into the crow's nest 
he brought down
after combing the tree clean? 

Remember our fingers 
touching the eggs, 
holding them in our palms  
all five of them 
still warm from the crow.

And how the eggs 
were left to remain 
barren and  unfruitful. 
our palms nestled them, 
for days.

Little did we know 
little did we care then, 
for us it was 
just the childish excitement

of a nest and eggs.
But now  
having lived so long,  
I wonder 
what it would mean to us  
if our nests were  
just taken away, 
suddenly uprooted, 
our children left barren 
away from our sight 
while we circle around  
the tree of life 
searching, and crying 
louder, than the caws 
that rent

the air above, then. 

And it fills me 
with such sorrow 
such shame 
that nothing I do 
can turn things around. 
My childhood days  
cannot  be brought back, 
the nest cannot be placed 
where it belonged   
with the crows 
to raise their young.

My future
to remain bright? 

  Les Corbeaux (Crows) -- Wassily Kandinsky

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