By Snehaprava Das
LOOK NOT FOR ME IN THE SUNLIT PATHS
Look not for me in the sunlit path.
Look for me
In a honey-hued forest
Where I gather the pieces of my soul
Fallen apart under clouds
Hanging from an ash-painted sky,
Where the chill flutters and flits
On the dead wings of a butterfly.
Look not for me in the
Glimmering morning meadow
But by the crumpled ribbon
Of a starlit river
That has lost its way to the sea,
Where the wind like a wayward spirit
Whispers to the tired trees.
I do not move in the sunlit path
Circling the castle coated in ancient clime,
I saunter along its crooked corridors
Where the echo of a strangled melody
Settles firm on the walls of old time.
Look not for me by a pleasant door
Opening to the sunlit lane,
I am a misbegotten shadow,
Waiting to crawl into the purple twilight
On the cracked window pane.
Snehaprava Das is an academic, translator and writer. She has multiple translations, three collections of stories and five anthologies of poetry to her credit. She has been published in Indian Literature, Oxford University Press, Speaking Tiger, Penguin and Black Eagle Books.
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