Murari Pukur in the Monsoon


The pond is overflowing, fish leap onto the path

Flopping on the stone steps trying to make their way back

Over the boundary walls that have crumbled in the rain.

Of all the house and garden, only muddy waters remain

As I wade in through the gates, mud squelching between toes

That have seeped in through the skin of my shoes

I stand upon the site of the bones of the old house

Bones that have now been picked clean by us.

The trees nod their heads as if they were waiting

For me to remember, not knowing that forgetting

Is not a choice. I look though eyes blinded by tears

And pretend it is the rain. And I know that I falter

Feeling like that fish flopping about on this land

Flailing to find my way home…


2 Comments Add yours

  1. ipsyb says:

    Yes, a lot of longing goes in there! So glad you liked the poem!


  2. Anonymous says:

    I can imagine the scene as I read this … for people who have left home – we are always “flailing to find our way home” 😔


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