A Sad Parody of a Little Flower Bud

a poem by Sudarshan Madhav Karhale

A gentle wind blows,
dodging the slender blades of green grass
early in the morning;
gazing at the bright red star
in the clear blue sky,
a little flower bud opened its delicate petals,
stretching and yawning.

Listening intently
to the acoustic chirping of timid sparrows,
it tried to sing a beautiful melody;
for the least it had thought about
an incoming tragedy.

A several metres afar from it,
near a huge stone covered in thick moss,
there was an old oak tree;
its massive trunk spreading wide
with solid roots going deep down,
long branches hanging free.

Many a years had been passed,
since the holy place was abandoned;
just an old couple residing nearby the lonely park,
waiting hopefully for it to be sanctioned.

As concrete construction breached
the tender borders of the sacred grove,
the entire space was occupied
by hefty contractors and his working men,
left no more for even a foot to move.

New plans were plot,
big projects were assigned,
lofty skyscrapers arose from the architectural designs;
polluting devastatingly
the friendly minds,
while the mother nature resigns.

Eyed with suspicion and accusation,
like a pesky prisoner in his own cell,
beheaded was the ‘helpless giant’,
the ‘jewel crown’ of the ‘poor king’ fell.

With a loud thumping sound,
followed its ‘lifeless body’;
to mourn upon its sad death,
came forward nobody.

A small swarm of buzzing honeybees
marched angrily on the fellow comrades;
swept effortlessly in raging flames of scorching fire,
like brave soldiers in the violent explosions of smoking frag grenades.

All it saw,
in awe and fear,
hiding underneath a rusty gear;
filling its broken heart
with unknown feelings of solitude and despair.

A colourful butterfly,
out of nowhere,
flapping its delicate wings,
landed on its soft cushion;
marveling at its shiny golden pollen,
it sucked the sweet nectar out of it,
blending gracefully it with the others
on the tiresome way that it had stolen.

Robbed of its only treasure,
devoid of a pleasant odour,
it wept quietly in a damp corner;
naive to the earthly world,
badly hurt,
it felt that it had lost its pride and honour.

Wilting with salty tears flooding out,
it soon started to crumble;
the heavenly spirit of the ‘happy elder’
soothed its broken heart
with its divine speech,
wise and humble.

Caught in a state of shock and disappointment,
watching closely the cruel act of selfish humans,
a detailed documentary, the messenger of God sends;
carefully analyzing the sinister episodes,
the Almighty recreates the whole universe,
a sad parody ends.