Stones
written by: Shraddha S Sahu
@Shraddh56141048
Sitting in the yard
In the crisscross of golden shafts
I read the lines of past
Inscribed on the wrinkled visage
Witnessing generations
The same lines are there
Casting the shadows on the countenance
of my mother
And on her glass bangles…
Bangles clank as she grinds
As the wrinkled fingers guide
Pouring life into spices
Mother inscribes new tales
Stirring stories in the heart of
That iron cauldron with ladle
At noon, in warm sun’s embrace
And she picks up two pins
And knits her unfulfilled dreams
In the sweaters for father
She hums while she rubs
The stubborn vessel with a burnt bottom
Rinsing the scars with running water
Water purifies all
Amidst the cacophony
I hear an orchestra—
A timeless duet of voices,
Two voices echo
Competing with the hands of time
Both argue; never rest
fume anger, sometimes jest
Sometimes sing bequeathed songs
whenever they are seen merry
Subsiding their grudge and melancholy
reverberation fills empty yard
At night
Pain smothered all the cries
Moist pillows often sigh
I heard mother’s silence
Grandmother’s groaning
But not a revolt…
Against the stones
Carved and adhered by
Them …
For time unknown
- Stones - February 11, 2025
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