I FEEL THE WOUND

 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

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