Do not gaze into this clay’s eyes,
With belief that she lives here.

Your daughter is gone,
There is no sign of her,
She took a flight,
On a darkened night.

The clay, she left behind,
Is a secret gateway,
Between Beloved sky and a future land.
Now, her earthy house is a residence of the grace.
Al last, her house at peace.

A hand came down,
Seen by none,
Took her by throat,
Cut the channel of air,
She found dead, covered in lilies.

Arrived a heavenly dove
Sat on her drained face,
Kissed her lips,
A new rhythm began,
Spreaded over her heart playfully
Danced and dwelled through her veins,
All through her lifeless clay.

Do not ask again,
The new-born here,
is no daughter of yours.
Do not seek her grave,
She no longer lives here.

© Serena Devi, Jan 2010, Thornhill Canada

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