by Nithya Mariam John
I saw her silently watch the children
Walk to the school nearby;
She remained muted when
the parrot sung the well trained tune
- the chained song of the green feathers.
At night she gazed at the skies
And perhaps, counted the number of stars:
the attending maidens to the moon-
the White queen in the dark recess of time.
I saw her carefully part her long hair
As she got ready for the bed,
She combed her tresses and listened to the crickets
Sing in the loudest whispers of night!
I saw her lying her head gently on the pillow
And close her eyes
To dream in silence.
As she switched off the bedside table lamp
For a word which can shatter her glass menagerie;
But for the past thirty years
She has found comfort under
the woollen blankets of silence.
Sometimes I wish for lips-
a pair of bright red tulips
Which never get parched
In the deserted sands of life.
And I wish that those lips
as red as chillies,
Her muting face of silence
Which she cherished
After the death of her only daughter.
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