October 2020
Bio Note: I am Abha Das Sarma and I live in Bangalore, India. An engineer and management consultant by profession,
I have spent my growing up years in small towns close to rural life. I have been writing for many years for my family and friends,
but only recently I have tried to be part of online community of authors. I hope to reach wider audience this way and learn new skills.
Author's Note: This poem is based on the Beirut explosion incident, where police raised a hand to signal end of the search for survivors.
Author's Note: This poem is based on the Beirut explosion incident, where police raised a hand to signal end of the search for survivors.
A Raised Hand
The bell rang
Tearing across, swaying anticipation
In rhythm with the continued pursuit
Of the excavators,
Dust rose and then fell
As men and women grieved, silently
Outside the church, now turned
A hall of ashes,
Lives cracking, eager to be out of the photo frames
Like a black cross devouring the canvas
The horizon spread still
Uniformly dark,
Arms tightened, from behind, earth rising
All around
I fell, breathing in
Until the arms had fallen too,
Darkness flashed, my body pressed
Against the window on the seventh floor
I had watched the rainbow
Slowly graying now, and falteringly shaping
Into a raised hand.
©2020 Abha Das Sarma
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