Poetry: Amarendra Khatua

Amarendra Khatua

Under a neon moon
We lost all our Virgin songs.
An orphan morning then preened
Inside the branchless twigs
Of the gnarled tree,
Civilization cried

It was always known,
The blue god will desert the
Bare breasted women and the
Thirsty wind inside a broken
Flute. Nobody taught, but the
City will dissolve inside a sealike
River and silence will munch the lyrics into our discovering
Meaning without roots

Thousand voices prayed along,
Orphaned children played.
The lady washing her wild hair
Inside the opaque water of a
Blood river and red lotuses
Did not care. A war must
Scavenge dead bodies, eat
Heroes and beg for stories to
Straddle eternity, retold, but
Never assessed
Everybody was curious
Whose oral history was plundered
In the dead of the night, whose
Relics are yet to figure the
Destiny of chaste legends inside
This museum of curiosity and
Continuity?
Our stories will grow
Into unsavoury history and fractured
Politics. Let the pictures of an
Imperfect past sing in silence and
Let us lose our heritage in not
Our knowing that our brothers steal
From us all the time and a war
Beckons.

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Amarendra khatua has more than 40 collections of poetry published in Odia, English, Hindi and Spanish. His work has been translated in all major indian and international languages. He regularly participates in international poetry festivals. A former diplomat, he currently lives in Delhi.
Email: amarendrakhatua@hotmail.com

Setu, January 2020