on this night
on this night
rustling like prairie grass I sit owl-perched
on my window
a familiar book in hand
I read the last poem over and over until its lines
become a prayer
I read this poem that
I've returned to
everytime
days have shut like coffin doors
and then for the briefest of flashes like a candle
before its hushed out
the poem becomes a mirror.
I see the poet reflected
just like me - owl perched on their window sill
I know the poet's hands veined by light
have traced these words just like mine
I know then
these coffin days
have come and gone
in another's life
I know we don't share a homeland or even the same century but
I know that their
heart like mine bursts
with song
I know the poet
in these most fleeting seconds I know the poet
like I know my name
raabta.
About the poet:
Parth Lakhani is a twenty year old student-poet from Bangalore, India He is deeply interested in postcolonial research and education. In his poems, he tries to de-familiarize the everyday and bring closer what is distant and strange. He can be found sitting in balcony thinking about the Agha Shahid Ali line - "they make a desolation and call it peace."