The Widow Revolts
The Widow glows in white
Devoid of colour
Ample pain with fears.
She appears pale
In her grayish veil
She turned into a tale of prolonged emptiness to sail.
Thundered the turbulent cacophony thub
Drumming beats of dholaks rugged
Pounding her soul
She is a performer in a vital role.
Smoted the chambers of inner consciousness
Her ultimate is her existence
Revolted and refused to be a sati on pyre
She is a mere widow not a vampire.
Struggle for existence blazed in reticence
Might be she is feeble
Yet very unstable
She extricates the baffle
No more in silence but full in violence
Sets the fire to some in presence
And asked how is that essence.
Unabashed curiosity glows in her eyes
Satisfying her question to the disguise
Dint of culmination in her eyes
She turns a crusade to incise .
©®Soumen Roy 27.2.2016 All Rights Reserved.