The Grey Eagle

The Grey Eagle




The croaking of the frogs entwined,
with the spatters of the rain,
dropping down from the stormy sky,
the thirsty earth below.

the earth damp and sticky,
small streams flowed,
a cold waft blew,
from the depths of the dark,

the morning mist hung,
flowing from the lake,
O'er the house, O'er the streets,
swallowing, the milky haze.

The smells entwined,
musky grey of the damp beneath,
of flowers unknwown,
and the night's dying scent around

The weary night hung,
wrapping the threads of dark,
As the spears of light flew,
desolating its art.

The drops of rain, fell down
from the early morning sky,
the frogs - cacophany unbalred,
irking the insects away

The light crawled stealthily,
into the emptiness of the night,
the distant melody of birds,
welcoming the early dawn.

the morning dew settled,
on the green blades of grass,
a trickle sliding down the green,
settled on the murky earth.

could smell the morning come,
or see the visual splendour,
while mother attended the young,
birds and bees, alike

the wondorous silence broken,
by the occasional chirping,
the grey eagle fluttered its wings
arose invincible into the morning

the great ruler of birds,
with sharp talons beneath
sheredding those that get caught
the last grasp opf life

Majestically arose in the sky,
until a speck on the horizon,
the sharp eyes hunting,
for a perching ground,

Slowly he descended,
from the fluffy clouds,
from the misty air,
onto a majestic oak.

Away some birds flew,
fear in their hearts,
And some left their young,
some the oak, forever.

But the greay grey,
lost in its own,
folding the majestic wings,
perched on the roof of the huge oak.

About lay the houses,
of common gentry, of thieves,
of sand and of mortar,
of perspiration and of gold,

Some were tall , some short,
some were new, others old.
And many a story hid,
with in the four walls.

THe dawn came in trifle,
like thoughts, like feelings,
the nostalgia turned real,
And, the dawn had come.

the mewling of an infant,
mullified by the milk laden breast,
of a sleeping mother,
the nectar of life.

Across the mansion,
lay the house,
its windows broken,
And the stones loose

But the tottering roof held,
by the bonds of love within,
And hung even in its last days,
a reminder of the glorious past,

The blinds were broken,
and bright light filtered,
the colours peeling away,
mixing like the grey below.

The floor was but rocks
the mud weathered away,
And shone the rocks too,
of newly borne scars

the columns barely held,
termited nesting in the wood,
And the moss green,
blossommed on the ravaged columns,

Outside a pleasant breeze blew,
the first rays emerging,
like a mighty army,
thawing its way in glory,

The morning fog blew,
vanished into the unknown,
the warmth of the morning rays,
warming up the earth beneath

the trees, the elaves, dry,
its gaiety moods of green,
And the mist vanished too,
marking an unannounced arrival.

And the crows cawing,
their hearts out,
like the tide of a blue sea,
And set out in a new day.

THe ants crawled away,
from ant-hills underneath,
the birds flew away,
from high nests above.

the floors opened slowly,
crawl of a turtle,
their luscious fragrances spread,
in the fresh smells of the dawn

the panting mother law,
for pain in her womb,
excruciating and unbearing,
contoured on her face

on a straw mat she lay,
of color faded brown,
her hair entangled silly,
wild emotions enflaming the eyes.

She cried aloud in pain,
the midwife consoling,
her body drowned in sweat,
her ownly comfort, a watery towel

thin, frail, the husband paced about,
could hear her painful gasps,
And the midwife's comforting words,
while above the sun arose

The wait, the suspense,
for sex of the infant,
around hung a saying in those times
the men rule the world

troubled, he prayed in silence,
for the one to come,
and the mother that bore him
a man of the world.

as the flames of pain
engulfed her body
while joys of motehrhood,
awaited her soul

the hour glass dipped slowly,
as the sands trickled through
time had but halted
a second, an eternity

the mothers heart aflame,
of vivid emotions, unfamiliar,
the joys of motherhood, unknown,
for its was her first born

And the fruits of pain,
new generation,
the infant shared
but also her soul

the pride of the clan,
a great man destined,
of mischiefs, trickling bright,
dreamt the mother's heart

her arms flayed wildly,
a convulsion of pain, o'ertook,
and fear in her eyes,
the midwife, panicked,

the thin man ran in,
sat beside the straw mat,
the moble lady pacified,
by sight of her beloved.

As the infant came,
from the depths of the womb,
the father's face bore pride,
for a boy it was.

the day grew warmer,
the midwife concerned,
for the motehr ailing
still lay in terrible pain

carried away the infant,
in her broad brown arms,
the midwife's face shone,
for the baby fine and well

the mother saw,
her newborn in the mi dwife's hands,
her heart cried out in pleasure
while her body tormented

the perfect skin, glowing
the tiny eyes, asleep,
And a few golden hair hung
on the tiny head

the features, spoke,
of beauty rare,
And the midwife bathed him,
in a lukewarm earthen bowl.

the mothers' face beamed
in pride, in anticipation,
And the husband heard her
a satisfied smile,

Anotehr spasm shook her,
she bled unhalted
but love of her infant, o'erpowering
as she struggled in pain,

Had the midwife spoke,
little may the mother live,
or may the infant live,
but thye mother cared lest.

for mother's love ,
strong and pure,
she lay on the straw mat now red,
dripping with her own blood.

She slithered into a slumber,
her breath slowed down,
her heart tired,
her body empty

the midwife hurried,
bought the infant back,
as the husband lay beside
his calls unanswered

but the infant cried not
as his mother slipped
away from earthly bonds
but the infant cried not

In a slumber deep, bestowed
by fate itself,
while his patriarch
lay dying beside

And the last journey,
troubled not the mother,
for the infant asleep
and he cried not.

might have awoken
the mother hastily
had the infant cried,
but he cried not

And she went away
leaving him, very alone,
in the great wide world,
full of hope and despair

The great wings flapped again,
and the mighty birds arose,
high up into the sky,
into the bright sunlight

A bright day began
And time moved on
for it did not heed,
for a mother's sake.

© 2006 T.Prabhakar. All Rights Reserved.