Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Sriram Venkateswaran

 Archaelogy

Leaving behind
The lush forests,
The enchanted cities
Covered in perennial rust
Of evergreen stagnation-
The brainchild of ever-blossoming Time-
The pickaxe is carried
To the caves of the Past
To brush away the spoils
Of Time’s undestined voyage;
And now, the walls give way
As the Past is violently undressed
And History’s little exhibition
Is open for groundless admiration.


The Golden Ages
Are rightly named
For they are indeed ornaments
With which little armies dress their eyes
And attempt (in success) to cover those of others.
The Gold covers up
The brass underneath
As History’s idolators
Continue their service
By carrying the torch of the Glorious Past
That the smoke might hide its own trail.


The cave is now
As it was then;
The old bones speak
The language of our own;
Time’s disobedient worshippers
Carry on their rituals;
The pickaxe of the archaeologist
Even now bows
To History’s formed rocks
Leaving behind
The lush forests,
The evergreen
Perennially rusting cities.