Vidya Josephs Blog

The Lost Madonna

Posted on: ಅಕ್ಟೋಬರ್ 22, 2011

She sat there, straight and tall,

Immobile of face, naked of eyes.

Something about her

A dignity in death perhaps

Stirred me to life.

In her arms a child of four-five

Suckled, trying to glean

A few life giving drops.

There she sat, half naked,

Her clothes in tatters

There – in the midst of a teeming city

Which passed her by

She was invisible.

Unnoticed, unwanted, expendable


Years and years later

I remember her,

Her face intrudes, and my silence shames.

She is lost – the silent Madonna.



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