Poetry

Seasons

we walked in silence
To the library that tamed our love
To the corner that echoed our laughter and giggles
To the history of men sunken in grief and knowledge
The cold is biting, my eyes stings
And this is what I have learnt
That Life is such a harvest of grief
And a long letter of small breathless things
That this country swallows and swallows
And my body has become a calendar of bones and ache

October’s velvet darkness covers my tears now
And I remember the Grey Doctor leaning over you
In prayer, this is how you get intimate with God
You lean, press forward
No one has ever prayed without bending
No has ever prayed without breaking into a whisper
And that’s what he does
He whispers, picks your breast and says
“this one will go”
Picks another
“This one too”
You are a flower
I mean your student who begins a poem for you
Said you are a flower
I hope he understands the irony
That flowers fade in season
And this is your season

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