Unpeopled,
Healing under silent shadows
As soothing winds tend to aching parts;
Wishing, the burning light
Freezes in its height
And the blanket of slumber

Forever weighs upon.
Streets bare it all
And embrace Night.

At the General Ward...

A man shall walk out on one...

Only, he had come in on two. Pray his good humour didn't dwell in the parted limb.Worse still - some walk in never to walk out.Death is more on the prowl here than  elsewhere....

A mother showers her love on her son: a young man who would most certainly have passed off as no more than some aimless vagabond should he be seen elsewhere. A dutiful wife feeds her ailing husband mouthful after mouthful.A child is seen tailing her mother running on some errand or another. A man wanders baring his upper torso that is burnt on the flip side.The "BATHROOM" on one end of the ward calls for an act of courage to get into. A huge fan stands facing its entrance supposedly to keep the pungent odour to the "BATHROOM". Some choose slumber over waking life while some others stare into it - their strength dribbing out drop by drop.....

A stool screeches here and there. Fans swirl noisily overhead. Conversations too fuse into this singular noise. A noise that seems to keep on a fight against fear - making one numb to reality.

So that, in the mean while one could grow those special gills that can
breathe in the hope that wafts in the air...silently...always.


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