THE DESCENDANTS
With a bit of mud upon their peak
a pair of tiny birds ventured into our abode.
I asked my mother, tinged with excitement
“Mother! Why have they graced our home?”
“To craft their dwelling,” replied Mother.
My childhood routine altered—
to oversee the endeavors of those winged beings
and witness the splendid nest they shaped.
Then came the day when Mother uttered,
“The swallows have birthed their offspring.”
Swiftly,
the fledglings matured, mastering the art of flight
and on one uncertain day
they soared away from the nest
yet didn’t return.
My heart echoed the emptiness
of the now-deserted nest.
Mother sighed and shared,
“It appears, the fledglings have departed their nests.”
Weary of my persistent inquiries
regarding the rationale behind their departure
Mother, one day, responded with irritation—
“Their progeny has blossomed into adulthood
they’ve left the haven of the nest
bound to their mates
busy crafting a new abode afar.”
I rushed to Mother
clasped her in a tight embrace, and
with resolute tones, proclaimed,
“Mother! I’ll never make another home!
I’ll stay forever young!”
THE SAME HEART NOWADAYS
Once, the heart
expressed itself freely
listened without resistance
but nowadays
my heart has fallen into silence.
No longer inclined to read
no longer willing to write
my heart shows no interest in listening
it seems to have lost its sense of purpose.
I’m clueless about its whereabouts
my heart, nowadays
no longer resides within me.
Grey Sparrow Journal 