Burn Memories On The Sidelines of Shield
- Hashtag Kalakar
- Oct 13
- 3 min read
By Ritu Borah
what pain does the ground live with , melting with drunk , hover with burn and silk skin , ghettoed by the ghats of gravity .
She weeps like leaves in the dark species of cold
as mournful letters are all a cemetery
bidding her trade with rocks and stones
till her days on earth was never too old .
Is peace by weather a wall beauty
or a parade of brooks
skipping on the outskirts of stay ?
No way ! she lived in that oak
Tenderly sheltered to blood
Hauntingly her spirits chased
Trading with mass and gravity.
To rebel against their puzzled hearts
were they inhaling predator's sins
When they lynched her like paparazzi
but no rioter had got god near them
Undone at her finest dust erased .
Is this a Poignant truth -
Heard by some unseen proof
or a twist and turning plot
that half here and the other half there .
But in a coup alliance -
What mournful wails greet ?
Once that network of a willow spread
potholes had dreaded lengths count
yet the passers -by passes with speed
when a tipper had shortened her stay .
Voila ! I saw the little girl cry
through the gas lit corridors ,
bidding her trade with rocks and stones
as mournful letters are all a cemetery .
I uttered - rest in peace ! rest in peace !
that record the traces of chain saw birds .
Isn't there the point of sprinkling salts in hall ?
risen from smokes incense , the priest prayed .
Good huntsmen lit upon a shade
as vilomah - never shall she rest ,
which plague the other hand dug
accidently surpassing her grave .
From the loose end of cine -
wantonly her spirit chased ,
From fever rattle down to knees
tormenting the termites build .
And out of peaceful protests ,
the river in her melted fire fury ,
flipping heave mount with dance
like tiny wings from the night
timeline to a lit screen
as soon as the lights are gone .
"Oh ! Bring this shade to light ! Bring her to life ! - never shall her shed build a grief sea " , uttered the huntsman of the eves .
But fear not when the wolves howl
on a photostat terrains of pen irrigation .
Freedom even for years guild
usher in cracking at dawn , or
turning to a midas song ,
Roaming like a wild ship in storms .
Lore near roses , recorded close void
from thoughts in coup , letters did pour
a rift that shores what misses ..moan , grief !
But you must declutter grip
to find your pristine express ,
To let the lord's candle secure your skin .
( She sculpted on a desert floor of concrete ,
cross beaming the notes of refugees ,
lingering a cast that half past leave
as birds queue next to a tall orchard )
where's worry dreaded not , by the by -- is search futile ,
a missing report ,
pelting stones sink , eroding from the heart to be their time skill revolt management ?
Please breathe on the sidelines of shield . wrapping up from the hearth of rural tapestry - let's offer a minute of mourn :
-- -- -- -- -- -- ---- ----- ---- -- --- - -- --- -- --- Hoping dear beloved finds a place in Heaven .
By Ritu Borah

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