The Ashti-Kalashas
B
Bijay Kant Dubey
0
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My mother was not,
But the asthi-kalasha was
Hanging near the near.
A small earthenware urn
With the ashes
And the unburnt navel of hers,
But covered with clay,
I found it hanging
Near my gate,
My last hope of getting solace from,
But it too remained it not for a long time.
The asthi-kalasha of my father
Lay it hanging from the stem of the old peepul tree
Standing on the river-bank
Of my village home
With his clothes scattered along the river sands.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş