Sunday, June 01, 2014

Touching the untouchable.

When the fireflies dance, and cast their pin-point gems of light
Around the grey-dusk softness of evening,
The comes the whispered message, the soft-spoken words
"Go to the mango trees"

And so he went, bare-footed and steady,
Across the brown-dry grass that grows beside the road,
Towards the broken-splintered fence, beyond which
The mango trees grow.

The trees stand mute at daylight's end,
And silent, no wind ties the leaves to mindless chatter now,
But instead, soundless with horror, they keep silent sentinel
Over the alien fruit.

For hanging there, in voiceless plea for mercy,
Scarf-suspended, and lifeless now, lost in tear-strewn tomorrow,
Side by side, the mango tree carries the fruit of man's loins.
"The body of your daughter is there"

© 2ndwitch, 01/06/14

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