To Belong

A sudden rain
Spatters the top, residue in courtyard,
Intensifying as I close my eyes,
Retreating into the dark,
Dying too sometimes-
Fires on the Greek Island move thousands,
“This was my home” say the migrants,
In cemetery, the children shall sleep,
In no particular order
The news reads-
“May be,
There is a white pillow inside the blue”,
My granddaughter had said
The day before,
She will grow up too-
In silence I put
Back into the rusted box,
Letters and diaries scattered by now,
As to our new home
We must leave-
Inclined to abandon my faith,
I still do understand
What it means to, ‘Belong to’.

An engineer and management consultant by profession, writing is what keeps Abha Das Sarma alive. She has a blog of over 200 poems and her poems have appeared in Muddy River Poetry Review, Spillwords, Verse Virtual and elsewhere. She also enjoys writing Haikus and has contributed to weekly postings of Haiku in Action. Having spent her growing up years in northern India, currently she lives in Bangalore. Read other articles by Abha.