Quantum Memories
July prompt: stones and bones hide memories
Quantum reality, DNA dots in the cosmos we are. The shell shrivels, flesh decays and bones survive — piled among stones on the riverbank. Consequence of a calamity, or a testimony of bloodshed and massacre decades ago. An instinctive thread forever lurking in dark recesses of minds to supercede fellow human beings — yearning to wipe out the surviving bloodlines — keeping ferocious flames licking, to engulf a whole civilization sometimes. Nature’s eyewitnesses preserve the scenes intact—unwashed by flowing moments, impervious to fires of time.
Lotuses bloom in the lakes — shine, wither and waste, fortunate to have floating roots — no fear of being uprooted like the humans flourishing on land. Bullied; flushed out to places with no soil to germinate anew. Cauterized by footprints of the tremors, the treachery, the turbulence, ashen faces huddled in the attics of wooden houses — frozen corpses tied together and drowned after mutilation. Macabre memories of savagery — saved in pores of lifeless stones by the riverside.
Those copious autumn colours, ceaseless spring blossoms, script of snowflakes gone. Now no more garlands, gardens, heavenly vibes — mere dreams adhered to refugee’s stamp — perched on the unfriendly boughs of the continent— faceless demonstrations, inked reminders of human rights — splashing on waters of defiled sensibilities. Deflated hopes subliminally ruminating logic of events— consumed by rage boiling inside the bones. Are the murdered ones luckier than those left behind — who knows.
Cedarwood doors of the houses languish beneath — green mossy memories sprung up slashing their core one day, ribbons of murky light pervade abandoned houses where no soul stays — mourning fresh, sunny days and crisp, snowy nights. Chilled tombstones hide skeletons seen off by loved ones. Yet valleys abound in unmarked, tactless stones and nameless bones strewn — numb fragments of forgotten identities— in the poke-marked landscapes smelling of death.
Galvanized by the trapped moments — the photons of energy disguise truths in layers of molecules. Tales of lost brethren, agony and pain, fear and deprivation — heard and told by inconsolable foggy faces, quantum memories of misspelt past, prickly present — cicatrices sprouting on the frazzled skins of future generations. Carved stone pillars of shrines quake without motion overhearing the voices sent towards sky — join cordially to pray for retrieving the bustling, harmonious times — embedded in their inanimate cosmic existence.
In response to the July prompt ‘Stones and Bones Hide Memories’ by Melissa Coffey in Scrittura.
Era Garg August 2022
