Dr. Vijay Nair |
Speechless
Like the bearded old man
on a moonlit night:
A worn-out life in
worn-out clothes
Standing on a swaying bridge
Singing a soul-stirring
song
For an audience of one.
Like the young girl
cycling at dawn
Smiling like a wingless
angel
In the slowly
disappearing mist
With her beautiful hair
Searching for freedom in
the breeze.
Like the tired woman in
the paddy field
Silhouetted against the
spreading glow
Of an unwilling setting
sun:
Returning home
Her gait is enshrined.
November in Aleppo
The shots zoom in from
everywhere
Strokes of crimson brush
the marble
The bombs, like
blessings,drop from the air
Here, everyone has his or
her own
Version of what they call
the truth
Like in Kurosawa's
Rashomon
In this city of faiths
and antiquity
History is being unmade
In the sound and light
reality show on TV
And no one knows or cares
to know
Who has buried whom when
minds collapse
Like the monuments of
Aleppo.