Now I am alone
alone as the tree
with its drooping
dismembered self
planted for nocturnal years
near the window of
a peregrinating house
the tree is taciturn
knows the sun, the hills
the moon and speckled stars

The tree stands anonymously
refusing to mingle with the ambiance
even when the stormy sky
threatens to shake ramparts
in the whirlwind

Views landscape
with its gnarled
spreading branches like tentacles
melting into fistfuls of waiflike tears

We are alone the two of us
Waiting patiently for the hawk

Ananya Guha is lost in laitumkhrah


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