Poetry by Kaberi Mukherjee

Poetry by Kaberi Mukherjee

Black Lady

From the womb of the darkness,
Emerges she, the black lady,
A bodily manifestation,
Of thousand caliginous nights,
She’s an opaque shadow.
By the fierceness of fire,
She’s tempered, flame hardened.
Roams she in the graves
In the leafless wintry nights.
Shies away the sly foxes,
As her eyes pierce through their black skin;
Afore the blackness of her patina
The whiteness of the snow is a zilch.
She is black,
Black from top to toe
Black from back to front.
She is black.
Yet not black to be the evil
Not black as the death
Not black as the black hole.
She is black as the fertile earth
Where seeds of hope flourish
As life blossoms in quiet rebirth.
She is black as black onyx,
Destroying all that is negative.
She is black, for she absorbed
All that is coloured,
Coloured faces and coloured deeds.
And she is black with all the blues.
And she is black with all the hues

Let it be done!

Kaberi Mukherjee
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Let it be done!
Let it be done tonight,
Let it be done.
When the beauty of the moon
Reaches its zenith
And the queen flaunts with pride
Stealing a glance through my oriel.
Let it be done secretly,
Let it be done.
When the sad leaf slides from the stem,
In the darkness of the fall
And the lone branch sheds some drops
On that stolid cemetery.
Let it be done unhindered,
Let it be done.
When the swishing of the breeze
Is taken over by the chugging train
And the slothful night
Is deranged by the dispassion.
Let it be done sedately,
Let it be done.
When the broken pieces,
Too scattered to be gathered
Too sharp to be sealed.
Let it be done flawlessly,
Let it be done.
Let it be done tonight.

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Copyrigt©️Kaberi Mukherjee