Prison

Happy February Everyone! 

It’s my first post of the month and I’m super glad to have collaborated with Meher Gandhi – a wonderful writer, who daringly explores the far reaches of the human mind and deciphers the anonymous emotions that run amok in it, through her beautiful poetry.

This is a poem we wrote together and I sure had a lot of fun doing it! Plus, I learnt a bit about blogging too! You can find the first half of the poem here.

Here’s the second half!

Handcuff

Crimson Hands leaden and dead,

Reluctantly slipped off the ferrous fence,

No tears remained for most had bled,

Seeping through her silent prayer and fissured defence.

 

The metallic grating of the lock echoed in demur,

The battle conch of a war long lost,

Announced the ignoble entrance of her saboteur,

The sole warden of her holocaust.

 

She’d rather laugh at her deprivation and misery,

Than bawl over what couldn’t be hers.

Oh, the day has come when all will be gone bitterly,

It’s time for her to forget her fierce fears.

 

Not a craven but, desperate she is to sleep forever,

And discern what the above looks like.

In all its glory, she knows it’ll be better,

Than this grey world that doesn’t serve her right.

 

The door, her egress to a tainted freedom,

Stood open, but between he stood,

An impossible escape from this living mausoleum,

The fresh grave of forfeited childhood.

 

And with the violent tremors,

Her conscious ebbed away gently,

The fire of life,  long reduced to embers,

Now doused at the age of twenty.

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