Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










Ocean’s ghost

Coteries of moths wove
the stuccoed wall of childhood;

the laughing chatter of my parents
drenched my skin and wet my bones

without arousing my comprehension.
Try as I might, I could not be

with them as their own and cross
the darkness pooled between me

and these folk whose flesh had made
mine but whom I did not understand

as I did the talking trees outside
the throbbing land

and this night of childhood
which was the ghost of an ocean.
 
 
 
← Suhit Kelkar