Poetry: Mitra Samal

Mitra Samal

I hear a song

I hear a song

in the frantic chaos

and in absolute silence

I hear a song in 

my fervent dreams and

in disorderly nightmares

I hear it with my eyes closed

and in my perfect vision

I hear it coming from 

a faraway land

but playing closer

The song smears my mind

and seeps into the 

crevices of my heart

I have not counted

the number of times

it comes enticing me

Its melody refreshing my ears

Its rhythm echoing with

my speeding pulses

I wait for it to meander

around me and take me

to its artistic wilderness

I wait to breathe it out

through pen onto a paper

My eyes settle on its words

and my heart hangs on its lines

I may have just, for once,

produced my art

*** 

A Conversation

I am talking to a writer who

speaks to me from her grave,

echoing her message into

the eternity

She reads my mind, my vices

and virtues and tells me what

holds true even for this time

I read from her days

I live her life in my life

See through her vision and

understand her astute mind

My thoughts reflecting her

thoughts, her conscious in my

subconscious, building blocks

of words that run viral on pages

which I turn with ardour

Past making its presence in

present, in a way past never dies

It’s the reason for present and

makes way to the future

I drink the ink from the pages,

it takes me to the moon and back

It’s been few hours I am reading

but I have travelled ages

It is true that when mind broadens

it can’t shrink back again

When the normal breaks astounding

makes its way and levitates me

***

 

Pain

I deal with pain like the

moon deals with black clouds,

waiting to grow out of its shade

Like the sunflower waits for

the sun, to bloom in its brightness

Like the river travels through

pebbles, rocks, and mountains to

finally submerge in the vastness

of the ocean

Like the darkness has its own charm

As it’s beautiful when the night

meets the dawn, after waiting 

patiently without light

Like the land with its dryness

smells at the final touch of raindrops

So, I deal with pain like it is a phase

waiting to unfold into pleasant sparks

I live the pain that prepares me to

endure more

I love the pain that helps register delight

I have made peace with pain and

undergo it as it’s inseparable from life

***

Bio: Mitra Samal (She/Her), Bhubaneswar India

Mitra mostly writes poems and occasionally pens down stories and memoirs. She is a software professional with a passion for both technology and literature. She has written a poetry book called ‘Beginning’ and often participates in poetry open mics. Her works have been published or scheduled to be published in various magazines including Poetry Society India, Muse India, Borderless Journal, Madras Courier, FemAsia, Different Truths etc. She is also an avid reader and a Toastmaster who loves to speak her heart out. 

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Setu, February 2022