Miscarriage

By Marisha Singh

To drown the torment

Of a life, half-alive

I fell into the pit

Of a decadent western night

A mediocre bargain

Compared to

What I could gain

If I had known the pain

Of not Knowing

Of which the Master

Whispers in vain

If I had paid heed

To the soul’s stubborn refrain

to break the circular trail

Of golden fetters and drains

But alas as I come close

To shedding all feign

Time that tyrant

Holds me captive again

Bringing me back to the

Same foolish fights

Fights that I lose

Again and again !

By Marisha Singh