I FEEL THE WOUND
A pleasant evening
Rain drops dripping down steadily
Frogs’ croaking piercing the ear drums
Speeding homeward birds singing sad notes.
Blackness clothed that 6 O’ clock evening
As electricity failed to light the bulb
Sister called out from her study
I downed my paint brush in flurry.
I groped to find the kerosene lamp
Sister vied with me, fright in darkness
I rubbed the box-side and warmed the sulpher
Scratched the stick and lit the lamp.
I held the spent-stick, a moment in hand
And pricked my sister’s face with the ember end
She screamed, I laughed, knew not the pain
Now I feel the wound in my every throb
Ps: Published in NMCC College magazine 2006