Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
A swerve to the left and at last I can see from outside
The city I was raised in: at the edge of the village on my right,
A finger of rock laid bare by an ebbing tide,
The skyline retreating in darkness and halogen light.
Surely the voice at once spoke true and lied
That said I belong to this city of slums and towers.
There’s a side of me that wants to cast aside
What links us together to commonly call it ours.
And bound to it in concrete this – our very own
Brand new Sea Link – remains inseverable from what I love
And long to flee; though it claims to stand alone.
Here none may linger; all must always move.
It isn’t true, but there’s relief in pretending one
Is through, as taut white cables fly backwards above.