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Sunday, September 27, 2009

The Day of She

Was it not the same day?

The day when she had come running down the stairs, laughing

and had pierced the silence in the rooms.

The day when she had flung her arms around the stillness

in expansive joy and

throughout the night had gaped wild at the moon.

Was it not the same day,

when a garb was burnt

and she was called dead?

2 comments:

  1. Dear Divsi,
    Its really a special thing to be appreciated by someone so sensitive and beautifully expressive.

    ReplyDelete