Winter and Fear: Two Perspectives
This poem is based on how my father's words have helped me overcome the fear of the gloominess that the winter brings
Grasping the last petals of amber the sun has shed,
I hold father’s blessings as I walk into Winter- drawn by a broken thread
She watches me bitterly; the closer I get to her, the more amorphous her shape is
With the remnants of autumn stuffed into the rosewood cages she carries,
Winds dance around her head (like fireflies!) and grow heavier and drier with regret
I walk into the room as a tide walks back into the sea’s fearful depths
The north-east winds blow nonchalantly over the sloping red-tiled roof,
She peers into my room, dragging my being out the window
While the moon rises early, frantically searching for its shadow!
The embers from the roasted green chickpeas fly off like fledglings from a nest
And sellers’ carts weighed down by fresh green bounty,
Buried under the ugly cold, there is a secret beauty
Nippy winds leave the hottest scars,
I look at her and realize she fears me-
Yearning for father's words of succour,
Icy and warm, split and blended like an unlit dawn.
Icy and warm, split and blended like an unlit dawn.
Yearning for father's words of succour,
I look at her and realize she fears me.
Nippy winds leave the hottest scars
Buried under the ugly cold, there is a secret beauty
And sellers’ carts weighed down by fresh green bounty,
The embers from the roasted green chickpeas fly off like fledglings from a nest
While the moon rises early frantically searching for its shadow
She peers into my room, dragging my being out the window!
The north-east winds blow nonchalantly over the sloping red-tiled roof,
I walk into her as a tide walks back into the sea’s fearful depths.
Winds dance around her head (like fireflies!) and grow heavier and drier with regret
With the remnants of autumn stuffed into the rosewood cages she carries,
She watches me bitterly; the closer I get to her, the more amorphous her shape is
I hold father’s blessings and walk into Winter- drawn by a broken thread
Grasping the last petals of amber the sun has shed.
About the poet:
Gargi Shivanand is a researcher and poet based in Hyderabad, India. Her childhood habit of making long to-do lists with quirky notes to self, serendipitously provided her much of the substance to explore poetry. She now writes in Hindi and English, alternating between the two like the sun and moon. Follow her on Instagram @the_kavya_vine to read some of her work.