Saturday, 15 September 2018

Poetry 2018 Longlist, Bandana Kar

Stabbing

Stabbing does not trickle tears in me these days;
Nor when destiny throws me down to the hell;
It is your sudden turning away from me
That saut├ęs my flesh in the heat of the blood.
What is/was my fault?
To cling to the pure breath that keeps me alive?
Yes, you are my pure breath, my oxygen, my elixir;
But it is that I am supposed to do when I was born as a human.
Everybody takes breath in and releases it;
But I inhale your murky love and exhale only mud;
You remain pure inside me
Holy like holy Bible, pure like my Heavenly Father!

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