The 72 hours
(of fears and prayers)

Dimmed lit her candle of life,
Dimming with every dying second,slow paced.
Where every breathe is a prayer for life,
wishing to be heard,from all the souls dazed.

Dimmed hover the spirits of her kins,
and dim lay silence with His pale face reels.
Lay two newborn in clinical sheets, quiantly unaware,
from the torn world outside, from Destiny's maneouvre.

One ,uncelebrated lump of flesh, newly born , in colours of peaches,
one, newly born mother, in long sleep, poised in life and Death's reaches.
One's arrival proclaiming doom for the other Born,
who hangs between impending doom and One Bright morn.

"Hope she breathes the next 72 hours, even may be the chances though,
prayer and faith for mortals now,Let the might of a Man in pains not forgo"

The world stood there, and so stood the time still,
sat the shaken, sunken Father,dying with a gripping feel.
Carols crooned in a far Chapel, on the eve of Christ's Born,
Subdued he sits, insecure, Can she breathe in the next Dawn?

she clinged back to life,nearer and near,With every passing hour,
Prayers , spoken and unspoken were answered by the Holy One's shower.
two day's from Christ's birth, the Mother rose to the foggy , piercing light,
Her lump of flesh, was thrown to her.A homecoming of a beautiful sight.
And so lived the mother , her kins and the father, in the ray of Bliss.
As Guardian Angel kissed away the tears, leading to the Doors of Becoming peace.

Indrajit Ghosal
copyright(c)2007 indrajitghosal

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