Beneath the Sepulchre

I heard some noises, myriad nights,

A woman snivelling, her voice,

Low audible to me, yet sensed,

I, the hollowness trapped in heart,

Her’s, there was a tale of pang,

Some hidden bruises still hurting,

And in her mellow voice she sung,

I heard night after night, her sobs,

And songs of her maimed heart,

She sung the tales of her kaput,

Love, the darkness she was caught,

In, the smell of mud filling into her,

Lungs choking to death, her howls,

Were like a banshee, I had chills,

Down my spine, but yet there was,

A lot alike to her tale and mine,

That hypnotised my soul to her’s,

At last! The wall broke on the day,

When I was put to rest on white satin,

The whole world left with some tears,

In my solace, I opened my eyes again,

And saw the reflection of my peaceful,

Face, the mirror beneath the sepulchre,

Unveiled the truth, that woman was me,

I had been caught for long inside that wall,

And what pity, Alas! I couldn’t save me,

From mayhem, and chose to sing and cry,

Thus, I closed my eyes and never opened them...

Words by: Monalisa Joshi

Image Credit: Staudinger Franke