Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
They cannot mean the same,
these words, to you or me.
It is a trickery of knaves
and kings, a hand of aces.
A slippery-slide of unending
falling, clawing at smoothness.
These words you take and shape
within your own heart, filled
with secret images, a lonesome
mine-field you return from,
scarred. The torment is yours
alone; who am I to understand
what is love to your ear –
the crevice it fits into, the blank
piece of serrated puzzle.
These words to you and me
are different worlds inhabited
by strange suns. The shadows
long, unrecognisable – illuminated
by varying light.
Impossible to meet, really,
in-between is space for a pane
of glass, a slip of a snowflake.
It is enough to be a universe
of separates. Apart.
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