AN ORDINARY NIGHT

@ GEETHA RAVINDRAN

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Scrubbing and washing daily

On the hearth

She keeps

The grains of labor

In blackened pots.

 

They talk to each other, boiling,

Of the stories of every hour

Be the force of sighs that help

The flames keep flaring non-stop.

 

The feminine fingers

Take a boiled grain

test whether done, and

Keep off the pot

Mixing a tinge of salt.

 

She starts wiping off

The tear-filled dark eyes

Saying

‘To mix with red chillies,

I just smashed the onion springs...’

 

Into a brim-broken cup

Filling with the moonlight drops

That is showered through the

Gaps on the roof

She pours the gravied rice

blended with grains of love!

 

All the grievances shred as snow

Dissolves in embraces

When the breeze plays mischiefs,

The branches spray

Thousands of blossoms down.

 

There isn't left any mark or scar

as a memoir there

Yet, apart from

The familiarised paths that revolve

There shines the life

In those brightened eyes!