Chitralekha Sreejai – Winter blues

IMG_4736Chitralekha Sreejai’s writings have appeared in some of the widely popular Indian magazines like Woman’s Era and Alive (Delhi press magazines), The Khaleej Times online (UAE), Eastlit, A New Ulster and Writer’s Ezine. Her poem in Writer’s Ezine was chosen for their ‘Exceptional poem award’. Her first book of poems ‘The divine hand in the dark’ appeared in 2010.  She received her PhD in Sanskrit from India. Formerly a resident of Ireland she has currently moved back to her native land in India.Winter blues

Winter blues

The sun rose cheerless and set soon
With a sad light that mid-afternoon.
In the lone labyrinths of the mind,
As the winter gathered grey
And all the angel spirits flew away,
The blues swelled with a deep hurt.
They deluged my heart and all the little light;
The storms tossed the mind in tough gyrations;
I see the greys of a silent graveyard,
Like it’s over, like I had known it all!
The night drifts carried the joy away,
Not a bird note, not a blue streak,
The sky, entangled in lifeless twigs.
Between me and the lonely tree,
By the long cliff and round blue sea
And the deep glens sleeping in dreams,
The mist swelled farther than eyes can see.
Love looked out of the golden frame,
With a deep abominable question,
Slow, slow, the sky descended through the snow,
Filling the crevices, roofs and the potholes of the mind,
Gleaming on the tinsheets, lazing on the fences,
Hanging from the trees with deep cold eyes.
Slow, slow, the cold pallor spread,
Seizing my world in a wild despair,
Drowning the heart in deep isolation,
Drifting continents, colours and dreams.
Beyond the pictorial eloquence,
A loneliness and deep solitude,
Harbouring in the heart,
An isolation, deeply felt:
Like a thousand islands have drifted apart,
Like colours would never bless the earth again,
Like the birds would never feed on the fields again.
My vexed spirits anchored on thee,
Pity, my heart couldn’t hide,
The beckon of love, glowing in the blue,
The dare to laugh at death and scorn at woes,
To walk beyond to where flowers grew and
The wind blew gentle on the mountain side.


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