Latent Fire

Somewhere the leaves count the dewdrops
The minutes and hours wash the darkness,
Perhaps the soft light points the way,
Your fingers count the soundless stars

Memories hang himself in the shadow
Silence is tender like crushed petals,
As if a child climbing in mother’s lap,
Strong winds translate the twilight.

There are no words for the evening
Bolted and closed the glass windows,
Beyond those myriad possibilities
I know too that students are bruised and battered.

A wakeful flame descending inside,
Who are those men with masks?
With blood stained iron rods, fierce sticks and stones?
All thoughts, all figures ignite the young mind.

Perhaps the victims are not alone!
Not all are stirred and shaken,
A time of resistance, a moment of protest,
I can be split into you, you and I
Light up the sky with the latent fire!

Gopal Lahiri was born and grew up in Kolkata, India. He is a bilingual poet, writer, editor, critic and translator and published in Bengali and English language. He has authored seven volumes of poetry in Bengali and nine volumes in English and jointly edited one anthology of poems in English. His poetry is also published across various anthologies as well as in eminent journals of India and abroad. He is the recipient of the Poet of the Year Award in Destiny Poets, UK, 2016. He can be reached at glahiri@gmail.com. Read other articles by Gopal.