Blood red poinsettias slash the landscape drippingHistory in mute testimony to a more violent past
The centuries old buildings dream in Delhi’s winter,
Mist-shrouded they protect and house the dead
Now gone so long ago, honoured in their passing
By an Emperor whose memories were built to withstand time
Tumultuous sounds echo faintly, stirring memory
With a heady mix of cruelty, gold and glory
Here, with the hundred honoured dead, now rests at last
A Mughal Emperor in exotic Persian splendour
The beauty of the aged buildings rising to the sky
Seems so peaceful, bringing succour to the soul
The delicate palms stretch their branches out in supplication
Pleading for mercy from the Divine on high
As the stark, decorative poinsettia sheds blood below
Delicate, ethereal and strangely feminine this citadel
Giving shelter to so many valiant men who gave their
Last breath in defence of Humayan’s empire
Now laid to waste by progress; now just a memory their fear
Lives taken in anger; their blood colours the poinsettia
Exquisite architecture an exchange for so many lives
The silent gardens, red-splashed, now rest in peace
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