By Leela Soma
The fear, the fever, gripping mankind,
hive minds in enlightened times
spools back as one hunkers down,
one dips into ancient wisdom for comfort
the warmth of the incunabulum
centuries-old sagacity intoned, scribed later
on palm leaves, in abandoned languages
deciphered by percipient sages, a legacy
handed down by generations imbibed,
absorbed into the DNA, a rare manuscript,
an album of belonging.
cadences, rising like a lotus from a muddy
waters of a stagnant pond, revived, unwithered
old herbal remedies, that gives succour
written in the eighth hymn of the Atharvaveda
powerful, giving life to men.
The conquering strength, the power and might, which ye,
victorious plants possess,
Therewith deliver this man here from this consumption”
Wishing the infectious virus away with Medieval
remedies, waiting for an effective vaccine.
Note: AtharvaVeda: The fourth text in the Vedas( 1000-1200 BC)
A wound, deep, scarred
not mended, fever, aches,
blurry eyed, my mind spools
sepia images, a laceration of pain
social distanced from my love
a longing to hug and kiss
her soft lips and cuddle her.
A silence, glancing at her photo
through the glass, yearning.
Solitude, would I die alone?
open to the purple skies as
bright stars twinkle mocking my hurt.
The ancient dust covers me
in a serape of memories
of our life together, halcyon days
sunshine, love, teen- glow
of childhood love and passion
under the magical moon
and time waits like sand.
Leela Soma was born in Madras, India and now lives in Glasgow, Scotland. Her poems and short stories have been published in several anthologies, publications. She has published three novels, short stories and two collections of poetry. Her poems have been published in Gutter, The Blue Nib, Anthropocene, Black Bough Poems, The Glasgow Review of Books and many others. She was also was nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020. She has been appointed Scriever 2021 for the Federation of Writers, Scotland. Some of her work reflects her dual heritage of India and Scotland.
Writing during the pandemic varies each day. A rollercoaster of emotions that either spurs me on to pen a verse or feeling a bit low thinking of huge loss of lives all over the world.