An old, ravenous vulture <br />Ominously hovers around <br />In the dark wintry sky, <br />Waiting for a chance <br />To swoop down upon <br />And clutch at its seeming prey <br />—An unwanted babe, abandoned in the meadow— <br />Beneath its tender ribs <br />With its freshly sharpened claws. <br /> <br />A shadow, dim and distant, <br />Lurks and looms large <br />Behind my back, unexpectedly, <br />At a time when the other shadows <br />Have obediently faded away, as usual, <br />With the twilight hour. <br /> <br />A wounded bitch whimpers, <br />She whines and she weeps, <br />Her yelps piercing through <br />The naked silence <br />Of the unearthly hour <br />Between the frigid dusk and the frosty dawn. <br /> <br />I cower under the quilt, <br />Superstitiously chanting prayers, <br />Invoking my guardian souls <br />To sheathe me in a protective shield <br />Of divine vibrations <br />To ward off the evil portents <br />Conjured up in tandem by these gruesome omens. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />17th March,2009 <br />17.15 pm<br /><br />asma bahrainwala<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/delusion-12/
