Thursday, July 21, 2011

alley of flower














He often holds my hand and walk along with
in a summer noon
on melted tar, black and brutal like lava;
Death;
he is a constant companion,
in his grim sarcasm,
accompanying all human efforts;
courteous, quaintly curious, with a huge robe
that seemed as tangled as my existence,
 he would drop in for a chat
like an old lover
to have pillow talk on my ailing bed;
and then again, at times, right across, like a stranger
turning me numb, scraping my nerves
with a metallic screeching of wheels;
at times, I see him wild and passionate,
rampant in his irritation at human foolish ness.
I trap concern in my fingers and
 clutch conscience to my chest
and guiltily rush towards safety.

‘What is it you fear?’ he asks in his surprised baritone.
His voice, a caressing whisper against my skin,
he says there’s an alley of flowers, beyond,
where eternal light filters like rain drops.
There are white flowers everywhere,
  White, the color of purity and a woman’s sorrow,
mingling with the fragrance of wet earth.
There are night queen jasmines,
flowers for the bride and the dead.
Death goes on describing,
his breath, like the softness of flower petals,
like a blessing.






14 comments:

Rachit said...

Death an eternal truth. Beautifully penned. :)

Weakest LINK

Fiducia said...

Wonderful free verse on death..Haunting and great choice of words..:)

ayala said...

Beautiful...I have missed your words.

Brian Miller said...

yes, sometimes death is a friend breathing hope...lovely write...

Rose said...

Beautiful - love it Celest - you my dear lady are a great writer!

The Unknowngnome said...

always a companion, your writing a blessing.

Cynthia said...

Oh, this poem of yours is so beautiful, the spirituality of
your words really blessed me
this morning.

Mike Patrick said...

You have painted two pictures of death: frightening and seductive. I believe both are correct.

Classic NYer said...

This poem is beautiful and made me feel a strange lightness...

Revathi said...

Wonderful!

tolbert said...

Indeed death is a blessing. Imagine foraging through life without the promise and hopefullness of death...

"White, the color of purity and a woman’s sorrow,
mingling with the fragrance of wet earth.
There are night queen jasmines,
flowers for the bride and the dead."

Your words amaze me Moon..."color of purity and sorrow" and "flowers for the bride and the dead."

Let's keep in touch...you are one of few whom i look so forward to reading...

Jack said...

C D,

A beautiful way of reminding all that death is God's will and those who live by their conscience understand it fully.

Take care

Cynthia said...

scary in a good way, one that makes
me think, about death even if it
is uncomfortble.

you're a very good deep writer.

Celestial Dreamz said...

thanks everyone :)