The Silent Chinar

Beneath the burnt Chinar leaves
the blood has dried up,
a carpet of dark brown
has soaked the dark earth

A frozen emotion, flows
like a poisoned river in its veins

Shriveled and helpless
stands the martyr of history

A frail witness to the fury
and vicissitudes of time
and people

Hiding the scars inflicted,
its sorrowwithin the hollowness inside

The benevolent shade, tries to spread
to the field of yellow white flowers
where the wasted stars of the night
lay buried below