“Who am I?”
Cries delusional disappointment
From the other side of silent silences.
“It is I!” replies the forgotten folklore
Soaked to its bone with the mythography of
Amnesia and madness.
“It is I!” cries the fallen leaf
Which was born “x” billion years ago
In the shared womb of a strange sameness,
In the throes of the same tragic groans and moans,
Which delivered or vomited the Universe into being
Identifying and relinquishing its cosmic responsibilities.
“It is I!” cried the Mother,
Burying her new-born babe under the
Shade of the weeping willows.
“It is I!” screamed the stars
Asserting the words most hallowed.
“It is I!” whispered my heart
Recognising the art of the self
Continually being woven of the threads of
Myriad miracles….
***
Poet: Aishwarya Das Gupta
Aishwarya works at the Department of English, Calcutta Girls’ College. She has recently completed her MPhil from the University of Calcutta. Her poems have found homes in various national and international collections. Her first anthology of poems entitled Becomings has been published by Hawakal Publishers.
