Ananya, a silent mother


She walks past alone at dead of night
To have the color of darkness
Along the shadow of the cloud,
As if the shades of the leaves;
Fallen on the beds laden with herbs.
She is strange by her courage
To move like the owls to guard
To protest the tyranny of the earth.
In motion to capsize the haze
In the middle of the day's burnt child
To clear off overnight the beams
On the bone mixed with blood.
Her mother sometimes overflows
Like the water and the flowing oceans
To ripen the strafe she holds
In her every gesture.
Like the sweet voice in the dreams
As if beckoning someone to push in horror
She never fears and proceeds to back loads
She confronts and washes her head all the time
She is the harbinger of truth all the time
She lives thus to respond the call
Around the globe to murmur the song
I love the world herein after;
Despite sorrows and affliction a grace
To snatch fortune by fraternity and love.

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