The earth has lost its balance.
Hundred years of walking over the sea of sands
Has built walls in her roots.
Like time travels under the sea
The earth evokes the splendor of awakening
In the eyes of the morning birds.
From the dream that was lost on the shore of the sky
I fail to assume winter fruits in summer’s song.
Hence I go plucking seeds from flower to flower,
From one sea to the other
With the hope of raising a home for her
In the field of butterflies.
Waking is a different dream.
And the earth that once dreamt to become a fairy,
Lives with us inside a tale of flowers and ashes.
The cold days of my summer pass with the notes of a tambourine.
There I found the leaves of your eyes fall
Like a sinking ship with half-written stories.
To know where the last days of a storm lie,
I must stand where the evening builds its home.
But my home is lost when I tried to find one.
Far into the depths of a meandering river,
The wind speaks with the voice of a rock,
To emancipate the red riding hoods from becoming a story.
Far into the depths of all the raging fires,
Grow a fountain of darkness.
Like the smoke rising out of the cup,
Where you try to hold the dreams from falling apart,
I see a lighthouse, gliding into the desert
And invoking the sea with its fingers.
**
Oindri Sengupta (34years), is a poet based out of Kolkata. Her works have appeared in a few online and print journals like Muse India, Kritya, Ethos Literary Journal, Istanbul Literary Review, Chiron Review, Hudson View, Poetry Quarterly, USA, Contemporary Literary Review, India, Decanto, Penwood Review, USA and also in a couple of poetry anthologies. Apart from writing poetry, she also teaches English in a Govt. school in Kolkata.
