Preethi Govindaraj (Voices Within)

Preethi Govindaraj is a poet and lives in Virginia with her family. She has an MSc Nursing degree and work as a Nurse navigator in the Lombardi Comprehensive Cancer Center, Washington DC. She have been composing English poems for a long time. She enjoys writing in Hindi and Urdu as well.


SUCCOR

I am a little shoot
Soon to curl elegantly,
A small green leaf basking
In the sun’s glory.
Gentle and playful
the sunlight beamed
A heavenly breeze teased
Life was pleasant it seemed.
I was delighted to grow up
To view the grand panorama
The meadows, the butterflies
And the bug’s silly saga.
Like all leaves though
I finally withered
To let newer ones unfurl
As my end neared.
I left the gnarled stem
And bid goodbye
Falling gracefully
With a tear and a sigh.
My pretty green has turned tan
My smooth edges have crinkled
I could remain there or offer
Succor to the less privileged.
Then the scene transformed
Dramatically like the movies,
All was damaged in a gale
The bushes and the trees.
A young leaf held on
But the wind was strong
between sobs and struggles;
it was swept along.
I hugged the little one
For it needed warmth and care.
The end was inevitable
But to sweeten it, I did dare.
I covered its tender form
With my faded shriveled body
It found solace breathing its last,
holding onto somebody.
***


GOLD TO GRIEF

My life had pranced between summer and rain
The seasons I grew up with, were seldom vain.
Autumn seemed vibrantly awake
Or did it herald slumber?
Never did a sight
Fill me with such wonder!
When leaves turn hue
And the greens wilt;
A change stirs-
Shimmering in gilt.
The lush, the life
Slowly turn in
The reds, the yellows
A flame within.
A living palette
In every landscape,
Colorful riot
Reflects in the lake.
The howling wind
Aids the descending leaf,
unto carpet of wilting things
Saturating me somehow with grief.
***


MOTHER OR WHO?

Memories of a speech
Long time ago,
I prepared for morning assembly
Torments me so!
I had memorized that mother nature;
Blazed in sunshine,
giggled in the breeze
Flourished in spring,
Pitter-pattered in ease.
But I am convinced
All this while
We didn’t know nature’s face
I imagine, it has an impish smile!
I know you probably know
It belongs to a child
How could we even imagine;
A mother behave so wild?
He opens the basket
To shower some drops
At a whim,
May pause, then stops…
He may flash a lightning
To see the fear it brings,
But soon turn on the oven
To heat up things!
The lakes go dry
Showing thirsty cracks
Hoping for compassion,
The munchkin lacks.
The kid blows up sand
And blinds the desert pride,
The palms stare helplessly
As waters in the tide.
Just when he softens,
Scatters dew drops to add some bling,
Tsunami roars ferociously
And sweeps in everything!
Quakes tremble earth
Disasters cry,
Where is the little devil
Does he hide in the sky?
Sometimes the cold may
Urge him to throw
Some cottony wisps
To magical snow!
Or does he stay deep down
Painting brilliant coral hems
Or perhaps erupt as a volcano
Yet leave some precious gems.
***

Voices Within-2020 :: Setu, February 2020

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