Jyothy Sreedhar

My Rome

The earthquake was invisible.
It displayed to me the collapsing landmark statues.

They had no brains and no hearts.
But had five senses each, stony and grey.

A crack proceeded from the past shades of trust
to its neoteric version of an eclipse.

Now the scattered remnants are seen-
those were once invisible and unwatched.

The history is rewinded for more discoveries.
I should not say ‘inventions’ to make it fresh and new.

Brutuses wandered on the way
and stabbed the dead Caesar again and again.

A dozen cycles were completed by the seasons.
A dozen realizations snowed the last winter.

By then, they had collapsed into a heap of dust.
A deconstructed land is the best plot for an empire.

Reconstructions begin
on the road that leads to Rome.

Not in a single day,
but my Rome shall be built.