Monday, February 8, 2010

Iraboti

The day I called you "Iraboti"
You whispered
Iraboti...Iraboti..Ira....Boti.
I could hear
dewdrops in your voice,
almost inaudible.

And that was the day
when you moved away.
You had an ocean to go to.
That was the day
I was crucified
like christ on the cross.
Nails of rejection
were both polite and impolite

Jet black sigh,
The fragrance of the ocean

The burnt umber blood stream
all wait

for an infinite darkness
For the resurrection.




2 comments:

  1. Jet black sigh,
    The fragrance of the ocean

    The burnt umber blood stream
    all wait
    there is so much depth than what meets the naked eye in this one

    ReplyDelete
  2. At last the impervious soul penetrated !

    ReplyDelete