Once I walked these streets in the evening
As moonlight came sifting slow
With you, hand in hand.
The perfume of the night heavy in the air
The perfume of each other in our hearts.
Once we dreamt of the future together
And told each other how it would be.
That was then, before the storm
Before the future ended in an eternal now
Now I lie in a ruined building,
Looking out over a ruined street,
Looking out over ruined lives,
My rifle in my hand, my eye on the scope,
For more lives to ruin.
There, behind the destroyed wall
Movement, a furtive scuffle,
My finger squeezes,
The movement ends.
My finger, my rifle, hate movement.
Your fingers, gesturing in the air
In the summer night
Like a dancer’s feet
There is no weaving to be done now
Perhaps it was you that moved in my scope
Perhaps it was I who moved in yours.
We both moved in someone’s scope,
On a summer night not so long ago
Broken all symmetry
Who could have known dancing fingers in the night
Could weave a world so strange?
Copyright B Purkayastha 2016