The sun chases me like a hawk The oasis recedes like the past Stranded under the barbed wire With bruised elbows and knees I wait for you to whisper The unsaid word into my ears A sandstorm howls. An untimely rainfall feeds the newborn grass in my eyes The sea-birds flap their smiling wings They peck into the rocky niches On the foamy cliffs They feed their little ones noisily Slowly, the sun reclines Strokes of fiery red mingles with the blue Like a dry leaf on a calm river The clock is an ocean between us Music pours from your callertune Waves and arguments Roar against the ineluctable cliffs We walk along the breezy surf Our stretched shadows long for the unsaid word
Shyamasri Maji is an Assistant Professor in English at Durgapur Women’s College (affiliated to Kazi Nazrul University, Asansol, West Bengal). She writes short stories and poems in English, some of which have been published in Muse India (“The Nettle Leaves”), Six Seasons Review (“Maya’s Apartment”), Story Mirror (“The Birthday Party”), Setu (“Skin Poems”), Kolkata Fusion, Café Dissensus, Indian Periodical, Borderless, The Chakkar and Teesta Review. She has her read her poems at ‘Humara Mushaira’ of South Asian Literary Association and Anantha-Samyukta Poetry Festival.
The Pine Cone Review 