Our temporary parting
- Subarna Maitra
I know you must be thinking at the moment
How cruel life can be
But believe me when I tell you-
Life did make my suffering gentle,
It allowed me to meet you
When I say I wish I had more time
It’s not because I regret not spending more time with you
But because enough time with you is not nearly enough-
The more of you I have,the more of you I crave.
Who says it’s the end though?
I’ll meet you beyond the realms of this mortal being
I’ll wait to hear you narrate all the wonderful moments you spend hereafter
The ones I won’t be a part of
Even as I bid you farewell,
Be assured, its only my soul departing
My love stays,it stays here with you.
The next time you happen to witness a full moon night,
Sing to the stars the song that was ours in the days gone by
Like always, I’ll smile at you while you do so
What matters if that’s from above you this time and not beside?
Don’t shed tears at our parting my love,
But save them
Save them for when we reunite in due time.
Hold them in until I get to hold you again.
Love is a metaphor
As the dusk melts into an inverted kaleidoscope,
the birds outside my window twitter lullabies like Mozart's symphonies!
A canopy of fragile words audaciously perforated the crevices of my mind.
And music swirls up in the air,
as the carvan plays ---
" Phir le aaya dil majboor kya keeje
Raas na aaya rehna door kya keeje
Dil kehraha hai usse mukammal kar bhi aao
Woh jo adhuri si baat baki hai...."
I read hundred metaphors of pain in Arijit's mellifluous voice.
On a day like this my heart pumps out alphabets.
Poetry sprouts out from the hollows of my collarbone.
So, I tentatively grip on my pen and write a love poem , in memoies of you( because the truth can only be told in metaphors).
" You resembled my favorite passages
from all the books I loved.
So, I memorized you like
You were the map to my home.
Your heartbeats were music,
Springtime acoustics to the
empty pavements of my heart that
listens to dry rustling leaves now.
Your smile looked like a decorated
churches on a Christmas eve.
The kind where dreamers like me
get lost in between unfathomable
You were like an azure breeze
on a July tuesday morning
in my mystical hurricane,