a poem by rajiv mohabir
Post on 21-Jan-2017
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BULBUL Song of the NightingaleBulbulWho tied you to a perch to carry you to market? Gold cannot hold the sun that blazes
in your furcula. You wish for wings in this life of heartbreak. What cruelty for the maker
to stir such music in your chest: a winged honey to warble while you weep, your foot
tied to a stick. Not even the song in your throat is yours though `mustered from your cage
of sinew and bones. Crows, koyals, dwijahs alike steal grains from your beak. Take this
coal and reach for the sun. This one thing is yours: this flight that sparks wildfire. - Rajiv Mohabir
BULBUL Song of the Nightingalewww.bulbulthedocumentary.com
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