হৈচৈ ছড়ায় Rohinish Roychoudhury

THE BIRD

Half past nine
Here I am
Sitting still and befuddled
Gazing weakly,
At the misty sky.
It is affirmed……
It’s vague and still,
But only to me,
There is enlivened life.

My perception tells me,
There is a bird.
Not free,
But captive to,
The pillars of hopelessness.
The cage looked,
Remorseless and revengeful,
But what had it done,
You innocent one?

Eyeball to eyeball with,
Stood a lonely maiden,
Who threw her voice,
an unimpeachable and mellow tune.

Same did the little one
Connecting an octave one or two,
But was soon concluded,
For the meaning was elucidated.

His voice was obscure,
His soul, shattered,
But did it mean
He was defeated.

Neither was he shattered,
Nor defeated,
For he sung,
For the sake of freedom.

He sung very low,
And the wind blew slow,
Together harmoniously,
It did bestow.

It touched my heart,
It blew my mind.
How strong could it be,
So small, but kind.

Few minutes passed,
Tik tok, tik tok,
A strong meaning it bore,
As the bird was there no more.

The maiden lay on the roadside,
Bloody and broken,
the bird too
With its soul untied.

I looked at the clock,
Disheartened and sad,
As it showed the time,
Half past nine.