The moon

On the roof of
My high-rise block,
I caught the solitary moon,
In the cup of my trembling veined hands
But it soon
Dissolved.
In the slanting
Silvery rays
That lit my shaking adult hands,
The way it
Illuminates,
The many
lands forlorn,
On the lonely and cold
Wintry nights.

It filled up
My heart
With
White hopes again,
As it did some
Fifty-five years ago,
Through the cracked windows
Of a poor peasant’s cottage,
At the edge of a lost village,
And it still does,
I am pretty sure.

The
Moon I remember
Of yore,
Always
Looked down from its heavenly perch,
Always smiling
And talking to an orphan
In gentle tones.

The big-eared rabbit
Standing on its legs,
The only resident allowed there,
Waved at me,
From the moon
And then
Came down to my room.

I would chat
And complain a lot,
The rabbit/ moon
Will listen to a
Ten year’s heart,
And invariably
Make the crying motherless
Kid sleep with
Its white wand.

For many years,
I forgot,
As struggle I have to do a lot,
About a caring and wandering

Moon.

Once I fell gravely ill,
In my little flat in the city,
Remembering my village,
My dead Pa and Ma,
My living brothers and sisters,
Who hardly cared
Whether I lived or died,
As I cried, as an abandoned baby,
I again found the moon
In my drawing room,
It had stealthily slipped in,
As it always did then,
Via the open windows
Of my tiny flat,
It flooded both my heart and hearth,
With its milky bright light
And gently touched
My tear-stained face,
With its
Ice-cool
White fingers,
The way my poor Mama
Did only once,
Before
She permanently
Died.
Everybody then said,
She is happy and sleeping at last.
I tried to wake her up,

Saying desperately,
Mama, Mama,
Please wake up
For your Chandu,
But she did not.
Then they took her away,
On a bare cot.
I searched her everywhere
In the village and home
But in vain.

In the cruel city,
I daily lived and died,
Fighting many battles
And about
The shining moon
I just forgot.
In fact,
Hardly could I see it
Above the worsening smog
Or
Through the seat windows of a
Crowded local or a noisy smoky bar.

To-night, however,
As there is no light,
I climb up to the roof,
After many long years,
And finally
See the moon

As always,
Smiling at me.
As
I gather its silvery rays
In my cupped excited hands,
And
Feel very light in spirit and body
And break into a rare
Smile
At my friend,
The big-eared rabbit,
Who stops
And grins,
Thus
Lighting up again,
In white light,
All my opaque insides.

---Sunil Sharma