From the biography of an unknown woman: III
Into the empty corridors
Of the night does she wake
An immobilizing blankness filling
The precincts of her skin and bones
The skin torn into rags
The bones crushed to smitherens
There in an insignificant corner
Lies a heap of her ashes of many a death
A whirlwind of unknown origin
Scatters the ashes far and wide
The phoenix can never rise
Negating all myths
Much to her surprise
She continues to roam
In those empty corridors
The shallowness of her breath
Echoing loud through her exhausted lungs
18apr2010
22.03hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Added by Poetry Lover
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