By Satabdi Saha
Now I am here
Wearing my ragged cloak
Mask crumpled,
Hangers on my ears.
Lanes and by-lanes on skinny streets
Creepers crawl slow within,
Thick lenses are scratched.
Through my ribs' broken way
You went, many hemispheres above
Forming russet hue, where we first met,
And the blue-green, of song birds
My face on your chest,
But you left, on an unwritten date
And I died like a fallen petal from a rugged bark.
I still try climbing lost staircases
But cannot find
For I'm now blind, searching,
Labyrinths inside labyrinths—
Where is my soul? I ask.
My tattered sackcloth is so eager to cut chains.
Thoughts are in mists, I've long left behind.
I only know the hibiscus tree and garlands now.
I must hurry, chanting 'Om' or miss the plane.
My heart flits like a bird in a broken cage,
Tubes, puffs and many more
I snort and snore trying to find out
If it was you, you and you
My soul left me exposed...
To too much rough weather,
Noisy waves, slander, hurts
And other disposable plastics.
I forget and forgive—
The new century upheavals, sand-dry.
I recall stabbed edges of memories
Nail trimmer, hair left on comb.
Wiped with senile pain.
I want to tear, sear, pierce the cloak!
Come close youngsters, feel me
Then get rid of me.