The Bleeding Wind….

It was like any day; like anytime before
but not for the wind that brushed past me….
that acquaintance of a forgotten agony
the heat beneath all expected coolness
the feeling of being hurt by time…
and exposed to hidden sobs
I looked around… maybe I could help
it brushed past me again
but this time with a scent of blood
the wind bleeding…?
the smell was intense and different
it smelled mangoes, eucalyptus, curries –
wet mud, old books, cow dung
it had the smell of mornings and dusk
the smell of sweets, sweat and sex..
a smell of memories…
all soaked in the smell of blood
It was intense and would not go…
But I took a few more steps ahead
and slowly started feeling…
It was me….. I was bleeding….
beneath my mortal self
where nothing exists
where nothing will ever exist….
I was bleeding…
I was bleeding…
-Vinod-

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Categories: Free Verse, Poetry

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