Categories
Poetry

Autumnal Awakening

by Chaitali Sengupta

Past

In the throngs of those trees,

there,

where shadows separate, and

the mustard sun blaze…

You could have been there.

(Or, I thought so.)

But now, I know better.

For, you’re gone.

And there, where the mustard sun blazed

only yellowing

leaves of autumn

litter with my past.

.

Illusion

When the summer ends

and the leaves fall…

gracefully, without any regrets,

any desires…

any attachments…

any afterthoughts…

Yet, whispering the promise

of return,

with another season,

another riot of colors,

another etching,

another dream,

another awakening into autumn…

like a poem, that says

permanence is an illusion.

.

“I can’t breathe”

Each one, with a stone in our hand

seek the other out

in darkness. We fumble not. No.

Each one

with a stone in our hand

seek the other out.

Only to kill.

For we know not

anymore, how to co-exist.

And though our fates

are common and bound,

we’ve become people

who choose

not to hear,

the cry that rends the air,

“I can’t breathe.”

.

Virus

Despite the virus,

Despite the fear,

Despite the deaths,

The flowers bloom.

The birds chirp.

The sky is blue and pink.

The days are longer.

The sun warmer.

The spring gifting

her wondrous colors.

And teaching us

the power of life.

.

Chaitali Sengupta is a published writer, translator, journalist from the Netherlands. She is involved in various literary & journalistic writing & translation projects for Dutch media houses, online platforms & various social organizations in the Netherlands and in India. Her recently published translated work “Quiet Whispers of our Heart” received rare reviews and popular acclaim. 

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