Sunday, 14 September 2014

Broken Ground

Last night I stood on a wide open field
Covered with rubbish. The ruined walls of a bombardment
Tattered blue polythene from a refugee camp
With a child’s doll
Poking its head out from under it
To see if it was safe to come outside.

It was a field without a blade of grass
Watered with no water, 
Where nothing grew
But broken stone.

And around, streets hummed with traffic
Cars and shops and people.
Life moved on.

I stood on this open field
And looked down on a wooden board
Half-stuck under a block of stone.
Perhaps a shop’s broken signboard
Perhaps a message from the Universe.

All I knew was, this was what I’d come to find
It was very important to me
And perhaps to everything, else as well.

Then it was that God and Heaven came up to me. Two sad men
Once tall, now bowed, with drooping moustaches
And hollow eyes.
They came to me on that broken ground
And looked at me and said - 

“We surrender, we have lost.
We admit it. Take us prisoner
And do with us what you will.”

So I said to them, “I can’t. I don’t have time.
Please find someone to surrender to.
And don’t drop sweet wrappers on the ground.
It’s already littered enough."

And then I went on trying to free the board
And a corrugated sheet of iron
Leaned sideways, and fell
With a hollow clang.

(This was actually a dream from last night. Interpretations welcome.)

Copyright B Purkayastha 2014

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