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| Goutam Ghosal |
Thy Feet, Rose
I’ve grown a secret lake of lonelinessbearing images of the lost days and nights…
a boy walks alongside the rippling river,
spots of light from the dark on the other side,
the dark crematory
where Charnok had stopped three years
before moving eastward.
That was where it all began ages ago…
shadows have grown taller
across the lake, and I’ve lost Thy smiles within my heart
that had once made all my strength…
Immortal Rose, Thy feet are still my hope.
lean on my breast
press there with Thy moon-gold feet
and let me reach to those shores of Light.
The Slow Pilgrim
Ages have rolled away
like big white birds
winging leisurely across the grey vast
yet nothing or little moved ahead
as if the legs were stuck up,
roped from behind
the sun came up and the sun went down
making wonderful twilights
leaving enough vibes
to walk the pilgrim track.
Remember the boat ride
on the calm waters of a great river?
the burning pyres at Monikarnika reflecting on the river
and the twilight zooming in from all sides?
a cry came floating through the evening fog:
“Light the fire!”
alas the fire was never lit…
only speeches blurred all, the speeches of a tourist,
who doesn’t see, but speaks!
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