Suicide

Visvanathan Balasaravanan

Moist gale. Hissing drizzle. Shy trees.
The garden hugged me into itself.

‘Those maiden city bus rides.
Images that trespass through my window…
Wet tree trunk. Fresh road signs.
Drenched leaves, that make the sky green.
Mobile chat outlets. Chatters on mobile.
Family crammed in an umbrella.
Attached lovers on motorcycles.
And the girl in the window of the other bus.’
Those pluvial scenes, I felt.

Enough of the past, that didn’t last.
Sun empires now.
Shrouding the flowers and leaves,
stood tall, the walls we made.
Mass burial, we walk over everyday.

The day is not so far.
When we will be buried and walked over.
Who said we killed the nature?
Just a Suicide, we are committing.


- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are the strongest to handle these toughest...