Blood on that Couch

A lone room filled with dust and spider webs,

Even the wooden floor creaked with every step,

She took, the air inside was musty and lamps dimly lit,  

For the past 20 years she didn’t had the nerve,

To face the truth once again, to live it once again,

To remember that night, when couch of his beloved Dad,

Became his death bed, in the silence of dark,

 

He the man of house and a dominating male,

He drank and drank, his cigar always burning,

Long one after another, he was a man full of taste,

He lived a life of extravagance and cared less,

For the little one and her eyes kept staring in awe,

The innocent one loved that man dearly,

Except someone else, much annoyed and uptight,

 

Decided to murder and made a plan, his wife,

Oh! The poor fellow came drunk as ever, knowing never,

That couch on which he slept was his coffin,

It was fate made destined, she comforted his husband,

To sleep, then hastily covering his face with a cushion,

He saw his wife’s face, and shaking the whole body,

In desperation, she held it long and long for long,

And his hand fell on the floor, she murdered him,

The six year girl, her mother killed his father,

Saw it all, her mouth open wide, eyes big in fright,

She peeked from behind the curtains,

Mother said,” Ah darling! Let your father sleep,

 

And the mother took her daughter lovingly, upstairs,

And they both slept, the little one saw that night,

Her mother’s face looked much relieved,

So she slept too, into her mother’s arms,

Like it was their last sleep, or perhaps the first,

In so much peace, tears stopped and dried,

Towards the corner of her eyes, still they slept,

 

Morning came, and many came, time passed away,

All thought he died in his sleep, mother remained,

Free, the little girl kept her silence, buried in her heart,

She saw mother walking the earth laughing and happy,

 But someone was being eaten off, with a nightmare,

That followed everywhere; she went, little one grown into a woman,

After 20 years, she has come back, ran from the house in her teens,

 

Leaving behind her mother alone, to live in that house,

She now wants to let go all, the haunting past, and that night,

She dared to go again into that room, where that,

Couch still lies, she kept gazing and swiftly a tide broke into,

Her heart, the eyes became wet, tears rolled down her cheeks,

Again the room became alive, that incident of night,

Was happening again all in front of her eyes,

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, sat on the couch,

 

Touching its surface with her hands, she sat for while,

There was no blood, on the couch, not on the hands,

Of mother, she saw her wrinkled face, she didn’t marry,

Ever no one, and kept the couch forever,

She understood, mother loved him, only freed him,

From the pathetic life, he had and made theirs along,

A sigh of relief came out, her spirit floating in space,

 

And the six year one came out, of that room closing the door,

Looking at mother she said, “Ah! Mother let father sleep”,

Putting her finger on her lips made the sound shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh………………………………………….

 

*Monalisa Joshi*

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