February 11, 2008

The night of the scream

Every living breath,
Every unseen glance,
Every untold sentence,
Brings back that night,
The night of the scream.

My presence that night,
Illusionary, unknown.
My memory, hazy, unclear.
My ears, they still play
The never-ending scream.

When beauty,
It ceased existence,
Took up brutality,
Took up immortality,
Became true, became real.

The actions,
Yours and mine,
The words we never said,
Yet understood all the same,
Ending in that ear-piercing scream.

A reason to live,
A reason to die,
By that single scream.

The night, it passed,
As a living tribute.
Two people,
Together by fate,
Apart by choice.

Every breath of death,
Everything I see,
Every sentence heard,
Takes me back to the night,
The night of our scream.


Lazy Lavender said...

Well, shouldn't it be 'Together by choice, Apart by fate'? Or have I failed again in grasping a poem?

aditya said...

@ LL,
I know what I have written, together by fate, apart by choice.
Again, this is a poem. It does not matter what the writer thinks when he/she wrote it. That is the beauty of poetry. If what the writer thought was so important to the reader, then they would have to write about ten thousand paragraphs explaining the poem after the poem.