Poem ::


of the bygone days i do not remember much
only that the leaves were of a shade i’m used to
i say used to and yet the last it rained i saw it
the leaves from the past : my and your
perhaps the rain washed away the burden accumulated within the present and let the past resurface in the future
in a green distinct from what is commonly seen
under the white sun or perhaps it was
just the time in when the clouds insatiated still frowned upon an immense expanse where
previously there was nowhere to be found
in when perceptions unfoiled by sunny whiteness witness a crow
neck shaded by the present sky
feeding on
in between leaves invisible only this morning to my eyes
brought up under the watchful sun
and whenin the mind wondered like it wonders against horrors yet unseen:

Have I ever seen this shade of green?
i confess i must have for my eyes have seen all nature has to offer in this locale of man
who only knows to throw around bricks and more bricks upon bricks
to support an exact paradise where mud ought only to exist as brick
and yet there it was
a washedoutgreen under the crownecked sky
a present yet unseen

for the past as a fool pretending to know everything once seen as known
i say leaves have always been green under the sun and when
hiding crows
yet of the past i know
that sun i don’t remember
and that everything
got worse only in the present
back then all was well
dandy even
i must pretend that time only makes worse
the wounds never accumulated in the past
as it passes
in the unabated continuity of the bends felt upon the flesh while dreaming memories in the misconstrued narratives indecipherable especially to the waking eye
i long for it
for past even as all goes as it went on but
I cannot believe that
I must not
I should not
yet shouldn’t i
mustn’t i
yet CAN I

i tell you the leaves were green
and yet what is it that unfolds before me
a sunless expanse clouded by patchy crowneck shades below where crows one above my head two in leaves
the colour of which i’ve forgotten or never did comprehend
i see while waiting for the night to crawl out
i know what future
the near one
has in store for me
not the one with inescapable vermillion blot on my scalp expanding into a band as hair parts on my head as two dull indistinct realms
yet vermillion shall it be as the green i know exists not
shall exist no more

[ Upanshu is a Poet. He can be contacted at m.upanshu@gmail.com ]

cover Photo : Utkarsh

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