The Crow’s Eggs

Long time back,
remember us gazing
into the crow’s nest
he brought down
after combing the tree clean?
Remember our fingers
touching the eggs,
holding them in our palms
all the five of them
still warm from the crow.

And how the eggs
were left to remain
barren and unfruitful.
though
our palms nestled them,
for days .

Little did we know
little did we care then,
for us it was
just the childish excitement
of a nest and eggs.

But now
having lived so long,
I wonder
what it would mean to us
if our nests were
just taken away,
suddenly uprooted,
our children left barren
unfruitful,
away from our sight
while we circle around
the tree of life
searching ,
searching, and crying
louder than the caws
that rent
the air above, then.

And it fills me
with such sorrow
such shame
that nothing I do
can turn things around,
my childhood days
cannot be brought back,
the nest be placed
where it belonged
the crows
to raise their young,
my future
to remain as bright .