Poem 5 (8.2)

 

Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 8, Number 2. November 2025. ISSN: 2581-7094

 

 

Still, We Are Here

--- Sucheta Kar

 

"Are you still holding on?", whispered the morning mist.

The last leaf trembled, but did not fall.

It threw a glance at the hopeless tiny bird,

She was sitting on a bare branch, wrecked, broken.

"Will they cut you down tomorrow?", the mist again whispered.

"Don't know yet, maybe." the tree let out a sigh of grief.

"How cruel the world is, isn't it?", said the little bird, "Our home is gone, we lost it."

The mist curled closer, smelled their woes wrapping them in a silver veil.

"I'll stay", whispered the tree, trembling but firm.

The bird slowly lifted her head; tiny droplets were glistening in the corner of her eyes.

"Tomorrow may come with axes and empty skies,

but today, still we are here - rooted, winged, alive, hopeful.", they sang the dirge together.

 



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Bio:

Sucheta Kar 

 

 

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