The Dark Holl Tolls

When the dark hour tolled its bell;
I had to bring certain things to light.

It was needed, the roots concealed yet;
Had to be brought to the surface.

Again I had to light those candles of my memory,
Which were put off by the wind of occasions.

I had to listen to the faint cries of my soul,
I had to grasp arms of past uncertainties.

I needed to explain, to put reason in my lost child;
I had to tell him that the wind does not sing lullabies.

Also that the Rainbows were not employed to
Fill the black corridors of deserted souls.

The rain is not for washing off uncertainties,
Sun is not for the sake of warming our spirits

And the grass doesn't conspire to tickle our beings.
No one was there to hear me,

The child of me had already migrated,
With the last flock of birds which flew from my childhood.

poem by Sarang Mangi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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