इंडिया:This Is India

The sun sets in dust’s rise
as blackbirds take to flight,
the call to prayer a call to wings,
while in the streets the car horns sing:
“This is India.”

The pen stills in silence.
The words do not exist.
The skies to stars stretch up in ohms;
Earth meditates as twilight comes–
“This is India.”

Bed whispers now my name,
but sleep’s beyond my grasp.
When wildest dreams dance into view
you ponder life in darkest hues.
“This is India.”

Winter sun does not rise.
Sky lightens, brightens dust.
On red rooftop in rising day
a noisy night fades fast away.

This is India.


One comment

  1. Lucy Williams · December 24, 2016

    I think I would love your India!

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