Two poems by Ananya S Guha

I am not a silent poet

A crutch
I hold on
a swivel of hope
tantalising wind
the flesh summons
and the wind blows
skies as luminous
lights spread into
eerie silence.
Umbrellas are painted
sticks to ward off
evil and rains
also the encroaching
heat as a stick
is a rejoinder
to what is happening
in sun and sky.

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