Poetry

Why does it Snow Red?

Grey, bulgy, cloudy sky,
Still pools of rain, with puddles of pain,
Childhood memories swim in cold air,
Holding silver, slanting ropes of rain.

The snow arrived with a baggage of memories,
as if, for the first time in everyone’s life,
The Snow smiled.

It is snowing,
I too smiled, faintly.
Smiles, resurrected from graveyards!

The future white shrouds falling on them,
Scared, I drew a curtain and plunged back into a world of my own.

I opened the curtains,
Again, and watched the thick, heavy snowflakes falling, without an end.

Cold metallic bullets, sailed amidst swirling, silent snowflakes.
Outside, frozen streets, shrouded in silence,
Whispering tales of broken hearts.

Under a pale yellow glow, of the lamp-light,
Dogs barking on the sudden silence, of a snow lit night.

Crows cawed at the continuing carnage,
Pigeons huddled on window sills; silent, mournful.

A flurry of snow continued,
I could hear the faint sound, of invisible footsteps,
And feeble breathing going far.

My world of childhood was dying; I was to grow without you all.

My mother, brother, friends, in coffins;
Silent, still, cold,
Like bullets that snatched them from me.

I was too young to understand then, and them,
They, timeless to make me understand.

The snow, falling thicker, faster,
Piling up like another giant shroud, like wrapped bodies.

Shrouded city, shrouded people, and shrouded shrouds,
Giant snowflakes wafting slowly,
Like pieces of lost, dejected faces.

The silence, and stillness of them, spread in me,
Making me feel the silence of snow.

The lights went out, a long silence,
I began to cry, in snow.

Leaving me alone, where did you all go?
Pain breaking my every breath.

I weave and stitch,
Every memory of ours in snow.
The Snow was Red.
The blood was warm.

Someone kissing their lifeless, cold heads,
I watched with cold, still, frozen eyes,
Swirling like feathers, my invisible warm tears rolled down,
Buried in snow, like warm bodies in graves.

My heart, like a forgotten city on a snowy night,
The snow abated, stopped, like my tears.

It turned into slush, and soon,
The trails of blood disappeared.

The Red Snow slipped into oblivion like them all.

Yet, the collective sadness from macabre swims within me,
The painful paper boat of my childhood,
Sailed without my friends’ boats.

Grey, bulgy, cloudy sky, in my eyes.

Still pools of rain, near puddles of warm blood,
And the cold moons, shining in them.

Childhood memories swimming in cold air,
Holding silver feeble white ropes of snow.

I stay near your silent, still Graves, my beloved.
No snowmen stare at me anymore,
No one flings snowballs.

No one calls,
Chases me when it snow.

Why does it Snow Red?


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