Shaded Love, Rusted roots

Walking adrift by a silent street,

crushing roadside leaves, that came

Thought how different we are from trees

they all silent, but we have that flame

Just that very moment, I crossed a graveyard

seemed like its silence, was screaming to be heard

I stopped and went inside, on the way I saw

an old grave, a verdant tree and a singing cuckoo bird

That stone on that grave, unsoiled by the wind

I went near to read the stone

“Mary 1917- 1955” etched on the top

and indeed the majestic tree where the sun shone

That tree was huge, giving shade to Mary

as if Jesus, to his resting mother

He shakes himself, to fly away the birds

so that she sleeps, and no one to bother

Unseen, unnatural was that love I saw

the loyalty of a son, for his mother below

One on which he grew so tall

who nurtured him, from a seed so small

Next day, I went past that yard

Thought to see again, what love really is

Went inside, but now was numbed

The officials cut that tree or killed it, last night

The one, succumbed to the killers

Mary is alone now, almost like me

I thought “How different I am from her?”

Stoic, we both were, but I moved

I knew, I was dead already…