Impressions
After the eruption
lava flows over earth's breast
and carves forever
the shape of a river.
Sorrows of the centuries pour
from the clouds
gathered in the eyes.
Hot sand scalds my soles
as I walk through
the dried up river-bed;
tears are long exhausted,
not the sorrows.
On the hard igneous bed
look for the fossil imprints
of our feet -
mine, yours, and of our friends;
this is the inner land
of insulted and cursed continent,
and not the soft sand of seashore
or decorative hourglass.
--
c s shah
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