The road ahead is desolate

akin to my brooding state

the sun has sipped all nectar

left the universe parched

stink of avarice all around

makes me sick

I am in two minds

whether to fly away from the trajectory

or to stick

I have become skeletal

both in letter and spirit

like a river devoid of ecstasy

swallowing up bitterness many times

yet trying hard to ferry…

mood swings of own and others alike

juggling between gone by and present

the radiance and translucent

I remain my muted version

like a bonafide carrier of curse

irrespective of season

yet somehow manage to smile

put some love in life’s miles

as and when hope murmurs to say…

“wash your grief in the river of joy

swell up… to proclaim your stance

for the languor of the season

is receding fast and not going to stay.”

                                                                                               ~ Sujata Dash

                                                                                                     Bhubaneswar, India