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পোস্ট বার দেখা হয়েছে
The detached tail of a lizard
keeps dancing,
-the chasm of pain ,
trapped in its senses, stops crawling,
ants carry it away, for future.
Peace falls into pieces,
maladies stuck in the middle of care,
one symptom after another
being fretted over,
anxious for getting another day .
A lifelong death,
running out of its breath
huffs and puffs midway,
Ceasefire,- a type of trapped peace,
grows roots, living its muteness.
Remedies, diagnoses,
fatigued war jargon
caught in word compress on the illness
fail to kill the pain.
Cramps of peace keep aching the pen.
Some sort of soggy words settle
sinking into the dark sockets of eyes
that refuse to follow instructions.
The mouth hangs open as a hollow
to shape the bursting words, unsaid.
The illness twists and turns overseas;
the precise role of ferocious peace
keeps things moving
as a pacemaker bubbles life
at its own pace.
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