There are silences That grew up in the forest Encircling the fort The sun and seasons spoke of them The Marathas and Moghul rampaged Behind an encroachment of skies Shrill war cries thrived in the cold Of a silence And trees grew up to bury A history of the unspoken Each day was stalking a river Of breaths Secret hideaways and bat caves Breached the night Rustling of chiffon, footsteps that woke the dark Our warm lips that never spoke Our hands that grasped a timeless tradition Held to Silences that should never been broken.
