Against the Grieve. ( of my old friend )

 we both cry as those birds cry
  rising like a black flag crying aloud.
  why do we both cry today...
  for what sound of weeping
  rose today  itself by?

  why we do not hope
  for a long easy life ,
  why do we both say
  "seize the day" ?

  in the whole country's deep roar
  why of your name has surrounded
  the whole atmosphere of mine
  why i see your body with my body,
  why in your face i can see mine ?



  say it is ,don't be afraid.
  is that against the tyranny,
  which doesn't allow us to speak?

  is that standing against of survival,
  which doesn't allow us to survive?

  or, against the absolute faith
  which doesn't have faith on faith ?

  must be it is against of our ignorance
  which allows us to know nothing.

Krishna Rai   --   between April - June 2004



This poetry was the symbol of my attachment
with the woman i came to know when i was 21 and she was 32. she was born to sikh parents and later at the age of 18 she fell in love with a moslem guy who was almost a double of her age. by the age of 25 she was divorced and started to livee seperately with her three kids.
I have learnt few of good lessons  of life from her , she truly was a great teacher.

This poetry tells you the mixed emotions and the quest of the same pain she was dwelling in and the sense of grieve i had for social jeer we  faced together.

I am not sure if i was able to find the answer.

Avoid the summer wind

All of a sudden
he opened up the window
with an irritating quest
"you don't like the wind outside?  "
"Why did you keep the window closed?"


and I sighed off the anxiety
and took a break; bleak.

"Oh No ! I didn't bother to open it,
it was closed."

but I also shrugged under the shadow
Of thought temple.

you never know
why I don't like to let it in.
the nasty summer wind.
it changes
Places to places.


"is it going to rain?
look the summer wind is bringing
the season's first change." he sounded the spirit.

and I cried,
my temple bell rang again.

you don't know,
that's the contemplated love story
a drama  in which
the summer wind strolls down to rain.
the cloud it carries is a load of dust and flame.

somewhere it sprays acid.
Somewhere pain but never rains.
I have seen the summer wind changing,
places to places.


"what changes, what are these places  ?"
 he closed down the window
and sat next to me.
the toes exchanged the same grim of a play.



"tell me why should we forbid
the summer wind to enter our neumic shell."
and the touch played the rendezvous under the temple bell.
and I lost into the passage
of unsung memoirs.

 I remembered
  summer wind hurling the wet clothes into defeated flags.

 I remembered
 summer wind swapping the green paddy field into a desert.

 I remembered
summer wind firing on thee country braves behind the battle fence.

 I remembered
summer wind blowing   and roaring  ...

and I remembered
summer wind did all  for its own unquenchable thirst.

"wake up !"  the noise brought me back
and I whispered out of  the  silent dead

"Nothing ,
i just know those places."

Copyright©2009 Krishna Rai