Refugee
by Gopal Lahiri / February 22nd, 2026
Every day the sun misses out this shabby shelter
on the roadside, it’s all dirty and shaggy here.
I am a refugee. I need this label, or I will be killed
I want to cry; all will listen to this primal of sounds.
A noble sound ringing from chest and throat.
am I an object? A door always slams shut on me
Some says, I am a category of human, I must remain
like that? I want to feel shame but for what?
Is it a number to be solved? I can’t be willed away
I know I must be there; this cruel world needs me.
They need me like an overhead, a period, but certainly
not a comma, a point of no return to my past life.
Some seeds are distributed daily, some old words
scuffle between us, some wants to die down with me.
Gopal Lahiri is a bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer and translator with 32 books published, including eight solo/jointly edited books. His poetry and prose are published across more than one hundred fifty journals and anthologies globally His poems are translated in 18 languages and published in 17 countries. He has been nominated for Pushcart Prize for poetry in 2021and Best of the Netfor poetry in 2025. He has received
Setu Excellence Award, Pittsburgh, US, in poetry in 2020. He has been conferred First Jayanta Mahapatra National Award on literature in 2024 for his significant contribution in Indian English Writing. His poems were included in the Penguin Book of poems on Indian Cities.
Read other articles by Gopal.
This article was posted on Sunday, February 22nd, 2026 at 8:00am and is filed under Poetry.
