November 20, 2017
"Mes de los Muertos"

 

The Untamed Sorrow

 
 
 

The Untamed Sorrow

The moon reflects
weariness, speaks a
forbidden tongue-like
a mirror in the coagulating air,
a nascent sorrow in the cabaret of life,
leaving behind its skin of dreams.

Fillets of grief are
sausages to a cloudy eye
a perished tongue, raucous itch
of a dying hearth, of a charred home
silvery insomnia on the bosom
of burnt whispers that cajole
the journey of hugging sorrows
endless love

A naïve heart
that bade a final goodbye
amidst sickening departures
and castrated whims .








Article © Deeya Bhattacharya. All rights reserved.
Published on 2017-09-11
Image(s) are public domain.


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The Untamed Sorrow

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