Thursday 24 November 2022

Sattvik Swastik Dutta, Poetry 2022 Longlist

 My Cupboard 

Years and years of my life had I lost 

Collecting stuff that would not forever stay, 

As the morning turns to night to die 

They would leave me one fine day. 

My cupboard always remain full 

With things I might not again need, 

And if ever I feel the need of any 

Away from mine eyes it remained hid. 

And time rolled on and with it 

Did rise in my cupboard the pile of things, 

But my days flew away as if 

It had found its invisible wings. 

As time flew away, I did realize I have to go 

And few days are left in my store, 

And the more I looked at my cupboard, I felt 

What would be of my stuff when I breathe no more? 

Shall I give them to you, 

You, who would then stay? 

Or shall I keep them in my cupboard 

Till I breathe my last day? 

Yet why does it hurt to give my stuff to you 

When I know I have to go? 

Things that are mine would once be yours 

When time would end my life’s ado. 

And why does it hurt 

To give all once you called your own, 

And accept the truth 

That nothing is yours once you are gone.

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