Co-ordinate of my home
My dear, I have only just woken upand opened the refrigerator
to take out
some joys, some sorrows, and a few blessings.
I wrote a song
and fed it birthday-cake.
The fennel flowers have remained just the same,
only the chair kept beside the window
does not want to sit there anymore.
And on it, last night’s moon
has folded away its white shirt.
I picked it up,
shook it gently,
and a few old afternoons
came tumbling down.
Then I went out to the balcony
and saw
an ant, very slowly,
changing the co-ordinate of my home.
I said nothing to it.
These days, those who have to leave,
on their way out,
should not be called back.
The fennel flowers have remained just the same.
Poetry by sinha murari
Written on 2026-09-07 at 00:06
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