Walk a Mile
and then another mile
as if you have undertaken the task of destruction
into your palms.
I sense my bones cracking,
my feet skinned,
my knees peeled off like an orange ripened to bitterness,
all, only to know the truth
of your heart,
to make excuses for your shooting of doves
all night
in the backyard,
I know how they bother you!
Peace is for the faint-hearted, you say,
and I know then whose body your gun will disfigure
next.
Now I see
in a hot gnarling flash,
thunderstruck into skies,
why I’ve forever seen white
where it rains red.
How your shoes were a size too tough
for my midget feet
glazed as they were
with the blood of previous conquests.
The night shies away into the colours
of your victory
and I see white
under your feet
walking the last mile
into your shoes,
one
last
sigh
before I step out
into the sun,
into happy oblivion.
Home
on the banks of river mandovi, the tides beckon
to sleep within the womb
and never return to this space
which has no place
for us
here is a family that serves the perfect social excuse
to say i live in a happy home
one crowded with silence, yet not efficient:
like an insurance policy.
There are familiar faces around but
i am alone – washed ashore the river
as it calls me back home
an ensemble of happy faces
lined on the wall
leaves on the sidewalk, a furtive covenant with fall
mother, the soft ebb of water; father, the hollow between rocks
children, the gullible game of the ocean
soft crustaceans, lambs of the world,
tumbleweeds on spiteful earth
in the tender blush of the rain
if you propped yourself on the ground
came a little closer, you’d see
how home is nowhere
and everywhere to be found
in-between the soggy earth and rebellious skies
amidst the rows of ants going to work,
the cluster of crickets playing cops
signalling daybreak and a caesura,
you would find the definition of home
in the suds of footprints on the shore:
a synonym
a sigh
a substitute
you would find the definition of home
somewhere between the clefts in the river and a heron’s hunting call
Born in Haryana, and brought up in Himachal, Shefali Banerji is a poet, writer and performer, currently residing in Calcutta. Having finished her Master’s degree in English at the University of Calcutta, Shefali works as a copywriter in a digital marketing agency and has had her work published in Heather, Rigorous, Snapdragon Journal, Cologne of Heritage: Incredible Bengal, and others.
