Silencing of the city

In a city far away,

and a cottage above the hill,

Where red dust from arecanut flies.

and time spins webs

Into time.

 

Streaks of lights,

Pass through the window

Onto the pot of coffee

Boiling till the brim.

 

The wind rustles and whistles,

In and through.

The spaces and ditches.

where the trees part ways.

 

Where the symphony of birds,

Mingles with the sound of a stream;

Glistening under the yellow sun,

Hiding above

the canopy of blue mountains.

 

Where men and women

Walk with sickles in their hands

Sharper than the tiny stones

Stuck in their nails, along-with dirt.

 

And everyone who sees a black cloud-

Yells or screams

dogs hide under the pile of woods,

moths spiral outwards,

Out of a tiny hole.

 

Among all these you can hear,

shrieks and whispers

of the silencing of a city.

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