Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 6, Number 1. May 2023. ISSN: 2581-7094
Tasting Peace
--- Mahua sen
Tonight the gust of wind rushes
through my tangled hair.
Detangling the tough knots
created by the sticky vestiges of
yesteryears.
The wind’s scent is of prairie grass,
honeysuckle, moist woods,
the earthen stove,
grandpa’s oil lamp, the nonenal smell of
granny
and the craggy trail of the kacha road
that stretches its arms like a mother, to embrace
her
child, the river Teesta.
Sitting near my window,
I
see an asphalt calm climbing up the summer trees,
to a branch's breathing motion.
fanning the dry leaves of ‘how it used to be’
I pause, making patterns on my window
lit by an ululating moon.
The moon, illuminating my aphotic spots,
like the candelabra does to my room.
I splash my legs in the iridescent pond
of
the bygone.
The ripples spread far and wide.
I nibble on sumptuous sweets of nostalgia.
I realise, I do have a sweet tooth.
Night dawdles in my room, giving me company
in ethereal schemes,
eventually it dissipates -
mating with the morn.
What remains is me, and a calm comfort.
I realise, my muse lives inside of me -
My eternal roommate.
Pouring
syllables on a quivering paper,
I relive yesterdays ,
stretching my legs on tomorrows to come -
Basking in the freedom of my ink.
My ribs, a panopticon,
imprisons fleeting joys ,
cages
moments and memories -
I taste peace on the tip of my tongue
For,
I muffle myself in a duvet
embroidered
with the colourful thread
of
yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.
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