The Renaissance

a poem by Srijith K Unni A

Deep burned the forest fire
To a thin line, did the river fade.
Red hot clouds covering nature’s raid
Vanquishing all, a huge funeral pyre.

Shrieks rent the air, so warm indeed
In panic, in haste did the fauna run
Thirst to quench and stomachs to feed
No trees, no shadows, under the red hot sun.

The Lame, the old, the weak and meek
Sadly succumbed to the hot pursuit
A quick farewell, others rush, solace to seek
Mere survival at the mind’s root.

Nerves of courage and eyelids droop
From hunger and fatigue, they all fall asleep
As dark clouds appear, like the enemy’s troupe
And the rain pelts down, upon the hill so steep.

After hours and hours, open are the eyes
Happy and thankful, a surprised smile
As flowers bloom, a sparrow flies
The forest whispers, life still worthwhile.