Cordons of Heaven

I wish these roads
would vanish like
the crestfallen day
on haunches
and I wish the myopia
of living would turn into
roads that move on on
to some oblivion
some reclusive waste
a tepid warmth of the sun
a gentle whiff of a reminder
a latent movement of the heart
a warmth, winter.

Winters are never different
they come like sparrows
they bring the cold like musk melons
which appear suddenly, winters come
any time in this town and musk melons
go with summer

Sometimes I am stranded in thoughts
at crossroads of dreams
and the traffic brings them into a rude halt
so do sky chiaroscuros

In oblivion I wait for skies to erupt
guns to explode
blood to rush and smear streets
the news of blood is never far away
the news of death is history

I must break this fasting of silence
not with food or water
but with a burst of tears
tears that sprout into many mists
spitballing into cordons of heaven.

Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He has been writing and publishing poetry for the last thirty years, and his poetry has appeared in numerous online publications. He holds a doctoral on the novels of William Golding and currently is a senior academic in India's Indira Gandhi National Open University. Read other articles by Ananya S..