Poetry at Sangam

SangamHouse

 










VOYAGE by Arun Sagar

Of late I sometimes sense the absence of the perfect absence
that was me most perfect.
An absence more present than presence but now absent.
An absence becoming so present
it loses itself
like something turned so far inside out
it becomes inside in
again.
Like a ship gone so far
in one direction,
it nears the port from where it started out.
This too is voyage.
All night
in one direction.
And now at break of dawn the cat scratches at my door.
All day I fill bowl after bowl, all day she comes and goes.
At night the hedgehog eats.

 

ARUN SAGAR