DEATH OF A DREAM

Under the merciless afternoon sun,
trapped in the melancholy of her solitary world,
leaning against a stone wall as if,
shielding from the misery at her hurled,
she sits breaking stones.
Her silken hands are accompanied only by dust,
in the desolate, stony landscape.
A stark, hideous contrast,
to the dreams that she had once harboured.
Her sunken eyes are devoid of feeling,
hurt, accusing eyes,
furtively shift their gaze to the closed doors.
As if wishing to speak, rise,
but no sound does arise.
Her dusty delicate body trembles,
like a stone idol come to life.
As she thinks of that ruthless item,
responsible for claiming innumerable lives,
that cruel, cruel commodity called food,
tainted with the blood of innocents.
Broken by the quirks of fate,
battered by the waves of time,
with no one to call her own,
she sits, breaking stones.
Drifting on the seas of sorrow,
she cannot bear any more.
Only a stone statue,
she cannot remain any more.
In bitter-sweet dreams,
her tormented soul is lost.
Two stone tears run down her stone face,
just looking at her makes me contrite.
Make no noise, don't disturb her sleep,
let us go away, for dusk has turned to night.

~ Rachit ~

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