Dissect My Heart
I can't collect the
oozing blood of my
faded heart---
I can't breathe either.
Dissect it or divide
into smithereens.
My head bowed in shame,
No more need I to be smeared.
As Lord Shiva torn corpse of
the goddess in fifty one
pieces to show his tumultuous
anger out of bereavement,
tear me, O Lord! !
dance like Nataraja
in the rhythm of tempest,
Do Tandava! ! !
poem by Nilakshi Das
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