Lies, Letters and Dirge of the Placid Lake


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it’s gently bowing down – the warm sun on the azure sky

millions of frenzied sighs break the stillness

of an unhurried afternoon I spend by the placid lake

and read some letters written long ago but never posted

*

the papers are worn out, brown and yellow

I blink at them, the words are hazy, distorted

mist from the lake has clouded the eyes, I pretend

but the desolation continues to grow

*

I delve into the letters often

they are the reminders of the promises you made

between the fading lines lies the grave

of a thousand lies, you spoke, glibly, slyly

*

the lies of eternal love, of a happy home

the names you chose for our children, never born

the love we added and multiplied with patience

you divided and subtracted your share pence by pence

*

the sky is suddenly overcast, the lake agitated,

the wind howls, sings a mournful ballad

it plucks the perished words from my quivering hands,

the lake creates for them a marshy tomb

*

the sun dissolves itself into the lake,

the dirge of the acrid past fades into the stillness

Ah, they’re dead too – the demons that I harbored

Tethys rises from the lake, envelopes me into a soothing hug

I rise too, with the tranquil moon.

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Seema Taneja<span class="bp-verified-badge"></span>

34 Comments

  1. Often times promises
    Don’t materialize
    Seems to be the lies
    Often stuck in fear of being prosaic.

    Ma’am you really pen it beautiful. A sweet lovely thuth wiping away the lies. Beautiful and positive ending.

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