THE SEVENTH VILLAGE OF THE HEART


Have you seen those
setting out in clusters
and returning to the ground once again and sit •
she had some pigeons.

Can you see that
drizzling intermittently and crossing the pond
She had a rain too of her own.

The day when my heart had turned like
an ancient city beyond centuries
for some research
with some,
She too had come
within.

They built a makeshift tent
splendidly
At times they disappeared
At times they surfaced
That a mammoth cave was found
underneath the ruins of the city
they spoke to each other which
I could hear so clearly
Wwen I was dreaming.

After a few days since it happened
pigeons started coming to my house.
In unexpected moments
it started drizzling
at my threshold alone.
Ash-coloured doves
Aa resentments
White-hued doves
as smiles
I noted down.

One evening, you know,
when I was getting ready
to go and meet you
She arrived.
She softly waved her hands.
The pigeons flew and got inside her.

Turning away, she walked.
The rain pursued her
drizzling.
For crossing the long bridge
in the seventh village of the heart
the reasons for this separation
won't be sufficient for her.

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postmodern poem