(A Death Is Needed For A Renewal)
Seeing you this much mutilated
I can no more contain my sorrow-
it spreads as would a wildfire
riding a wind of its own-
the haunting voices of all
that is green, feathered, scaled
beside or within you
sing the apocalypse-
monal river,
you let your turquoise water feathers
to be ashen sewers,
though it’s a story of salty boundlessness in the end-
I am now convinced
you were always a woman
with the heart of Manikarnika,
treading the path to be a phoenix-
sumanar/lekha 