Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
When first she brought you home I must have been seven;
She who had flown in triumph half-way around you.
Now past fifty I know I have not been forgiven
For being so unlike her. The countries I have visited are few.
From the shelf where you sit Brazil stares me in the face,
Amidst wide strips of unconquered sea and land.
Surely it’s no crime to stay rooted to one place!
I have moved in ways she could never understand,
Gazing at what’s right here as at seas from an airplane –
And there’s some comfort there…though I remain
Drawn to that glorious curve she drew,
Traversing with a single finger one half of you;
The circle she began and left me to complete:
Wiser by far, mother, not to compete.