Tight Clutches

The clutches are tight

Resigns our mind to their might

Lo! The hard, unmovable stone

Has crumbled into powder fine.

Where is your pride when it is night?

Weepest thou in the dark

Louder and louder

Pools of water crystal clear

Does your face reflect

Cleanse yourself of all your dirt

Before your mind changes again

Bind you your wings

And sour up in your effort

Your burdens drag you down

Kick them off with a firm grit

Mother, cast Thy mercy and grant Thy grace

For thoughts calm and deeds compassionate

This embrace is our dire need.

– Mathioli R. Saraswathy

Flute Magazine, Oct-Dec 2010 Issue