u n w e a v i n g
from my saffron
dupatta
one
by
one
just like bleak
strands of blood
dripping from
my mother
uncle and
his son.
His son
hugged
mine
beneath
the old chinar
where we once
shared our
darjeeling.
My baby
woke up
again
the masked men
blasted their agonies
on our pale
blue door
I still await
a knock
a cup of coffee
a call
from
you
a distant memory:
your frizzy hair,
silky palms,
our shared laugh.
But I still laugh
as my boy
licks melted butter
from hot parathas,
your favourite
my father and I
take walks
through the fog
and dust,
the sun shines of
aluminimum
which brought him
your white pills,
often
we talk
of you.
of you.
You never
walked this way
but we feel you
silently reeling
your love songs
in cassettes
with film
longer than
these boundaries
'our' people
have made.
longer than
these boundaries
'our' people
have made.
Don’t
apologize
apologize
let the threads
cocooning this
distance
in love
stay.
cocooning this
distance
in love
stay.
Written in response to poem 'Letter to a Kashmiri Friend' by Aditi Rao
I really liked the way you enjambed this poem, and you can really see the influence of Aditi Rao's poetry in it. The imagery gives the poem a charm, however I feel like the last stanza would work better if it wasn't enjambed the same way as the rest of the poem, to give it more of a distinction. Also the relationship between the subject of the poem and the poet isn't very clear. I loved the unique comparison of boundaries to the film of cassettes.
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