Tree Story
It was a different life…
deep rooted tentacles
explored dark alleys
dense and clingy, fickle
sandy tracts, or stony beds
we held it all together
we resisted falling apart
Mischiefs hatched in silence
and some tradings underhand
tentacles uprooted, gasping,
sought homes that were no more
the colour of loss was green
can we hold anymore?
can we resist them at all?
robbed of home, of life,
dead, not gone, in wait.
Come, rest, here's a seat,
tentacles hanging midair
reminding what could have been
we cannot hold this world
yet we are, our dead presence
centre falls apart
Nabanita Sengupta
Nabanita Sengupta teaches in Sarsuna college, Kolkata and beyond the college hours, enjoys dabbling in creative and critical pursuits. An academic, translator and creative writer, she has been variously published in India and abroad. Her latest publication is an anthology of poems, In-between Selves.