An old, ravenous vulture
Ominously hovers around
In the dark wintry sky,
Waiting for a chance
To swoop down upon
And clutch at its seeming prey
—An unwanted babe, abandoned in the meadow—
Beneath its tender ribs
With its freshly sharpened claws.
A shadow, dim and distant,
Lurks and looms large
Behind my back, unexpectedly,
At a time when the other shadows
Have obediently faded away, as usual,
With the twilight hour.
A wounded bitch whimpers,
She whines and she weeps,
Her yelps piercing through
The naked silence
Of the unearthly hour
Between the frigid dusk and the frosty dawn.
I cower under the quilt,
Superstitiously chanting prayers,
Invoking my guardian souls
To sheathe me in a protective shield
Of divine vibrations
To ward off the evil portents
Conjured up in tandem by these gruesome omens.
17th March,2009
17.15 pm
asma bahrainwala
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/delusion-12/
