How can I ever return to my city now? I’ll need a time back, children and plants, and a cow, yes the cow that would come That time and place, this time and place, complete my city of the old. kept me shaken for minutes at length. Death of a street, they sell fish and vegetables for some length and then I return. Early this morning an aunt passed away, my whole life and that of our families for as long in grief too. Or else, how do I explain my not rushing from my home, from myself. I think I understand once all have gone, and those around are not your people, a ghost in a shell, and waits for Rajnish Mishra is a poet, writer, translator and blogger born and brought up in Varanasi, India and now in exile from his city. His work originates at the point of intersection between his psyche and his city. His work has now started appearing in journals and websites.
Deliverance
and me back from that time. I’ll need them back too, men and women,
to the door for me to rub its back, then leave, every day.
Too many deaths in twenty three days have hit me hard,
is not to be trifled with, and flash: images
on it and then there’s a bend, the end of the street,
yes, that’s what we called her. We’d been neighbors
as we have lived in our houses. I am far removed in place,
back where I’m needed? I have changed. I have come a long way
Tithonus’wish a little. It becomes difficult to live
the time and place also not yours. Then a shadow walks,
deliveranceAbout the Author