Boulders
Like a glass of fine wine intoxicated by its own essence – an ultraviolet god, you weave, un-weave, you reweave your thoughts like an apprentice Buddhist monk torn between your own thoughts and something more than that while searching for a warm hotel room before the night falls in a lonely mountain town and sit and talk about ordinary things and think of something like God. Friends and enemies slowly grow apart one by one after waiting for a final answer when you traverse through your unsocial days, half- absorbed, looking for a destination that you can never be sure of. Under the shadows of the Sun, you go farther than you have always anticipated when you started and now you wish to settle down somewhere, familiar and warm. May be a small town beside a large rock, head-shaped, almost like Buddha’s, or a Stupa with an embroidery of lichens and your own thought. So that you can at least think that divinity still exists, if only in boulders.
Sekhar Banerjee
Sekhar Banerjee is a Pushcart Award and Best of the Net Award nominated poet. The Fern-gatherers’ Association (Red River, 2021) is his latest collection of poems. He has been published in Stand Magazine, Indian Literature, Arkana, The Bitter Oleander, Ink Sweat and Tears, The Lake, Madras Courier, Outlook, The Wire, The Wise Owl, The Bangalore Review, Kitaab and elsewhere. He is a former Press Secretary to the Governor, West Bengal. He lives in Kolkata, India.