Sudha Subramaniam

Bleeding Lilies Blooming Bowers Sudha Subramaniam

Her crushed form lay on the bed. The fragrance of lilies clothed the air. As the crack of dawn broke the darkness, the slanting windows opened to reveal that she had bled. The colour red coursed through my veins, my hair stood up on end and my eyes became pools of welling tears. The silent night had stifled her screams and her scars became stories in the lanes of memories. She lived in my verses and screamed through soundless pages. I held a mirror to her shattered dreams and harnessed her feelings through timeless expressions. Every soul housed in the body seemed like a wingless bird in a cage. My words spilled out to reveal the victims of circumstances and I strived to hold back the limitless outpourings. Every heart that once echoed in the valley of pristine beauty and rose to wing across the free blue skies seemed to metamorphose from buds to blooms. But through the valleys and blooming bowers I had spotted the bleeding lilies. The lens of my vision zoomed in to reveal thoughts swept with reality and gushing with virginity. From simple joys to complex emotions, I felt my pen etch the reality. As the earth continues its ceaseless spin, as thoughts run into oceans and pens run dry, as crying hearts hide behind smiling lips, as the dipping Sun is enveloped by the blanket of night, as lilies bloom to spread fragrance and joy, the words still come alive and live on to tell.